AKA, Liar Syndrome
by Mozu The Mochi
Summary: Love is nothing but an obstacle. Love is nothing but a weapon to crush someone. Love kills. Len has a mission, and that is to lie. Seduce her, love her, break her. But she had barriers, and to break them requires a weapon. A weapon not only shatter the walls, but the person itself. "It's a game between you and me. Are you up for it?" "Deal." LenxMiku! Contains low M and high T!
1. Prologue

**AKA, Liar Syndrome**

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"_People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim. What I've learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one's reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one's master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person's view requires to be faked…The man who lies to the world, is the world's slave from then on…There are no white lies, there is only the blackest of destruction, and a white lie is the blackest of all." _

― _Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged_

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><p>She was beautiful. White flowing dress, a garment of thin muslin and silk she currently wore, had exposed her delicate yet skinny arms, though assumed people would focus on the dainty bouquet of rich silver and gold, and full skirts, too, pushed their lengths till the floor. There, a presence of white lace sash tied around the slender figure which had terribly exposed her contours, really adoringly mesmerizing, and a pair of silver stilettos stepped and halted onto the similarly-coloured large tiles that embroidered the church's floor. People in neat dresses and tuxedos, the wealth lavished themselves with extreme jewelleries; focused their eyes upon the beautiful bride – her face gleamed with sweat and a nervous feeling – and to a man of white suit and red rose tucked into the pocket. She stood firmly, her feet aching, and a gleaming, aquamarine pair facing the man her destiny had chosen. <em>Destiny<em>, mind you. She had her flowers in tight grip, palms clenched and loose each time a vow was spoken. And the question started;

"Do you," – the name was muffled to her ears – "take Suzune Ring as your bride?"

The man, with masses of raven hair and eyes hidden behind the glasses – she witnessed the glasses gleaming evilly and afraid she was – huffed, as if nervous. For once, she hoped a rejection. A word starting from letter 'N' formed in his lips. But he only managed a smile, looking towards her own aquamarine with – was that affection in his eyes? – a blank look, and lips quirked upwards, although she knew by far, there was no sincerity. Ring knew that smile was a fib. She wasn't a fool to not notice. Because when you look closer. . . It was a smirk. Smudged with sheer cunning and malice. Hinted with an air of selfishness. It was the kind of smirk that tensed her shoulders and teeth chattering. She was afraid. Afraid of her future. Afraid of this marriage. Afraid for her future child, if not for the same fate that bellowed from generation to generation.

And deep remorse, too, sunk down to her chest and broke her heart into an unrepairable pieces. Her love was wasted like a trash, her body used and thrown away like a supposed marionette.

Everything is a ––

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**PROLOGUE**

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><p>Lovebirds. They scattered around the city like a parasite, currently stashing themselves in the streets, the schools, even the cheapskate cafés they could find. Yeah, you heard it right. <em>Cheapskate cafés, <em>where the supposed good-quality tables old and have permanent stains and the chairs toppling and cranky, plus the smell was shit. Somehow, a lot of those pairs didn't mind, as long as they could cuddle and make-out as private as they could. _Privacy, my ass._ They brought an air of sweetly-sickening romance around them, filling the space with flower fragrance and stealthy kisses and shared coffees. It annoyed one barista apparently – a depressed girl of eighteen whose looks could rival a model but had a life shittier than a prisoner in jail – Suzune Miku to the end bit, how they never get tired of staring or smiling, the girl always tried to control their heavy laughter, in order to impress the male partner instead. Their bodies pressed against each other in a flirtatious manner, even lust hinted in the body language, Miku wished for all those stuffs to go away. It wasn't even Valentine for Pete's sake – that was seven months ago! – and yet the café she worked smelled and looked like a celebration of Lover's day. Kisses in the left corner, cuddles somewhere else, giggles were increasing in volume. Ugh. For the first time, Miku felt disgust to the maximum level.

And she was standing behind the counter like a fool; tongue-tied and bored. Nothing else to do, her serving work having finished earlier, yet she couldn't leave without some other people in the old little shop. And the only thing she could do was to watch the few customers' antics, her fingers tapped on the wood while she hummed Bad Day's tune. The last bit of customers didn't feel like leaving yet, thus she kept whatever patience left inside her, a turmoil of anger boiling in the pit of her stomach as it waited for a release. A yell would suffice. But she would have to do it at home, several kilometres away, lest she would have to remove her apron and fled to another job. Being a waitress, or a barista, was dumb. Serving lovers was dumb. She hated the job, but she was dirt poor and her college was ruled by a fucking dictator who only loved money than improving the facilities or privilege there. She detest the library in Tokyo College, if not for the lack of useful books and uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs or dust-pricked tables. Flinching at the thought, she made her way to the sink to wash her filthy hands, as to forget the poor state of said library in her mind. Before she could even turned on the tap, a ring of a bell made its sound to indicate a new customer had entered the shop.

Fuck it. It was twelve past ten and Miku was already working overtime. She would plead for a raise, double the yen for a bleary-eyed, hardworking student. Yeah, she deserved that. And some coffee would do. With that thought trailing, she finished her washing, fixed the mass of bluish-green mess and her gleaming pools of emerald trailed and fell to a man. Miku could guess he was around twenty. Perhaps nineteen or younger, she couldn't make a choice. But she could care less. She wasn't up to any romance anyway. But the man, somehow, piqued her curiosity. Screw his handsome looks, a mysterious air glided around him, not like Miku could feel aura but she could sense the obvious. The poise. Yeah, that must be it. His standing posture, his hands curling inside the pockets – skin so white and smooth-looking that Miku had herself refraining, and she dared not to dread against the crown of golden waves, albeit dishevelled, it seemed like a hairstyle in a magazine. And oh, those pools of maya blue seemed to cause her shoulders tensed and words got stuck in her throat, _sharp and cold eyes_ – a lump made its way into her throat. Confused at her mien, whom apparently had spaced out, he placed against the counter and lips stretched into a smile, or was it a refrain of trying not to laugh?

"Uh, miss?"

Her imagination broke, and she was caught stammering, if not confused. "Oh, uh. . . sorry," her hands coiled against the fabric of her apron, "What can I get you, mister?", and cursed lightly when her voice was hoarse, rather horrible. The man squinted his eyes, figuring out between two choices, mumbled a word or two and returned her smile with an order of Chai tea. She left him standing there, not that he seem to care nor does will he flirt on a girl like her, whilst she made the tea, her legs and hands quick yet neat. There was sweat on her forehead, for the café couldn't afford a functioning AC much less paying the shop's rent. That old man, presumably seventy and in the verge of dying from chronic Anaemia judging from his pale looks, didn't even pay a visit to his own shop, let alone to make renovations, leaving Miku to wonder why she even worked here. But Mr Miyagi was nice, at the very least. He offered her a cheap rent of apartment, and a job. What could be better than that?

The machine made a weird slurring noise as she finished, and she pushed away the large foam cup with crappy trademark of MIYAGI'S in the centre to the man. Which then another thought popped into her head; the man looked so decent. He wore nice clothes – a fucking Ralph Lauren – and yet he went to this shitty place?

"Thanks," he slipped some cash and walked away. But before that, the tealette was sure – very, very sure – the mysterious man had winked towards her. _A wink. _Cherub cheeks flushed a crimson fade, and immediately, she shook away the thought. No way would a man like him would wink at her, not even attracted. He showed no coquettish signs, though, a few friendly smiles but that was all. Friendly smiles, and nothing else. Miku didn't want to get her hopes high. . . Wait, she didn't care for romance in the first place after all!

Finally, all the customers seemed to sashay away, sleepy from either the chatters or lessons, whilst she get to clean up the counters first. It was already quarter past one, and her mind grasped any form of keeping her body functioning and eyes to not shut closed. _Soon_, she thought bitterly, biting her lower lip lightly. She was always alone in the midnight shift because her supposed partner, some guy she can't quite remember the name had a family of four which he desperately need to return to, of course, in around ten. So, she let him passed since he had a good excuse. A _family_. Miku lowered her head, her lips curled into a frown as her hands fiddled with the ribbons and took out the apron from wrapping around her waist. She hung it on a nearby rack, and brushed some dust off her shoes and jeans, the thought of family still hanging loosely in her albeit lethargic mind.

Always, there were people who thought she was supposed to come from a wealthy family. At the very least, they told her, she had the looks of someone rich, while she could only see a reflection of messy locks and red-rimmed eyes. She had no family, for as long as she knew, none. She was left in front of the door of an orphanage, abandoned with no sign of letters or keepsakes or whatever it is to show that she at least have a family. Miku had assumed her mother was a prostitute of some kind; a young teenager, perhaps, who clumsily had sex with a guy who didn't wear any condom at all. Yeah, she had a bad life since babyhood. And despite the fact that many people called her beautiful, she would always shrugged the compliments from her shoulders like they weren't meant for her. There was no beauty, she thought, in having a vampire-like white skin that was contrasted by the mass of bluish-green tresses that was always out of style or tangled or just simply greasy no matter how she washed, or the pair of aquamarine pools that always resembled with a set of dark circles beneath. And no matter how she dressed – currently, a Hard Rock Café top that hung loosely till they reached her thighs – because she was getting skinnier than before – and jeans that was years in age and which the colours had faded and so does her Jeffrey Campbells which was supposed to be her fifteenth birthday present, was terrible. Everything about her, as she marked herself, was utterly plain.

The poor teal-haired girl walked home, saving money, alone as she passed one to another empty and dark cul-de-sacs till she reached a neighbourhood area. Her shoes clicked softly against the pavement, and she cussed when she noticed her cellphone had finished its last drop of battery just by the crappy notifications from LINE or Messenger or those random games she either had ignored or forgotten. Everyday seemed like a bad day to her but she tried her best to keep her optimism. At least, as she wandered off, she has education and friends and a nice cozy home. There're still some homeless out there, and they were strong enough to live with digging trashes or having to lower their dignity just to get a few coins. They were so brave – wait, why did her cheeks turned wet? – she breathed heavily, clutching to her chest like it was in pain.

_They were so brave_. . . the words had struck to her real bad. And here she was, cursing every place or people about how shitty they were. Having herself embarrassed, despite the lack of audience here, she quickly wiped her tears away, looking rather like a lost child than a college student. And then, just then, she heard a cough behind her. Afraid, and in haste, she whipped her body in three hundred and sixty degrees as she desist her movement and looked at a certain person.

"Mr Miyagi, you almost surprised me!", a laughter suppressed from her startled voice. The old man, instead, smiled as he patted her shoulders. Miku had noticed that they were nowhere close to the apartment block yet, and considering his bad health, she started to feel concerned. "You should be at home, mister. What brings you here?"

He replied with; "Shopping," pointing a handful of plastic bags which looked heavy. Miku lowered her body as to help him carried three quarters of his belongings. It was always like that, Mr Miyagi shopped like the end of the world was coming soon. He mouthed his thanks and they walked home together, lifting the heavy feeling off her chest, she felt light-hearted and almost cheerful as she stayed by the old man's side. He was like a grandfather to her, giving advices and patting her shoulder or head at times. They had a mutual understanding. Once, Mr Miyagi told her about his son who married some woman and never returned to home again, or the story of his wonderful wife who died of an untreatable disease a couple of years ago. The tealette saw him cried, and so she told him her problems as well and cried together, with two mugs laden with tea was pushed in ignorance. That was the first day they met, when she first arrived in the supposed haven five months ago.

"Miku," he called out to her, and she politely gave him a soft hum in a tone of swirling confusion, "Thank you, dear. . ." a cloud of air puffed away from his thin lips, and his wrinkled skin was grayish and dry. But the teal could only wonder, as to why he was saying his thanks to her once again.

"It's no problem, mister," coaxing, "These bags aren't that heavy."

He shook his head; "No, thank you for being here. . . As you see, when you grow older, many people come and go in your life. Even though I can still picture my son and wife in my head, they weren't actually here by my side. It. . ." – he coughed harshly – "gets a little lonely sometimes. But then you came, which is nice." He stopped for a while, hands soothing over to his chest to calm his breathes.

"That reminds me, you look like a person I've met several years ago. A beauty she is, long hair and eyes like yours. She fall in love with a man and I heard of her getting a ring and suddenly, all about her was gone like she was supposed to not exist in the first place," Mr Miyagi's eyes lowered, and the tealette was sure she could see the grim on his looks. "It was such a pity. She was like my daughter, but I've heard from some friends of mine that she ran away from the household and got kidnapped."

Miku swallowed in sheer nervousness, "Is she – Is she alive?"

Silence fed her for a few seconds before the old man coughed again, softly this time, and shrugged, "I suppose not."

"When did she get kidnapped?"

"Eighteen years ago, I'm quite sure."

_Eighteen years_. . . She was just a baby by then. Miku fixated her eyes to the ground, not attempting to speak further and instead, had her hands slid over to the old man's and guide him home. She was not going to think that she was related to that case or whatever. No. She came from an orphanage, that was all she needed to know.

Sooner or later, they arrived at the block. After sending the sick and tired elder, she bid him goodbye and goodnight and quickly rushed towards the lift. One, apparently, slid opened and a man slipped over but before she could pull it through, the man had almost closed the lift into a tight shut. Her legs gave her the best speed they could give her, and she screamed at the top of her lungs, pleading for a stop. Wide-eyed, the man, fortunately, noticed and he pushed the button, causing the lift to open its doors for her entrance.

Long tresses in loose ponytail disarrayed as she dashed, and her shirt was caught up with the speed, fluttering about, and her lungs working in fast pace, she inhaled a large amount of oxygen as to rest herself from fatigue, she leaned against the wall. The tealette swore she could hear a chuckle from behind – the man apparently seemed amused at her antics – but she paid no heed. Although, such an unfortunate to her, the man wanted to at least held a small conversation.

"Bad day?", he chuckled from behind.

Miku scoffed, feeling a tad hurt but kept her composure as smooth as she could, turned to the man's whereabouts when a pair of aquamarine eyes met the familiar ethereal blue glows in such a dark lift. She gasped, rather surprised, her hands clutched her chest rapidly, "Oh, it's you! What are you doing here?" The blonde wouldn't live in such a grimy place, would he?

Instead of a response, she received a laugh from him. Immediately, she thought him extremely turgid, and how dare he instead gave her a tardy reply; she huffed and turned away as a gesture of annoyance. But she heard a mumble, a barely audible response, she leaned closer.

"A friend," he played with his coat, some opulent brand from Italy she couldn't figure out, "I'm visiting a friend."

She mouthed an 'O' and proceed to ignorance once again. Still, he had the tendency to bug her endlessly, perhaps with no reason after all.

"You live here?"

"Hm. . ."

"What room?"

"Why should I tell you?"

He laughed, shaking his head against her cautiousness, or probably fiery attitude that he came to get interested. The mysterious man glided his eyes to the dim light bulb and hummed a nursery rhyme. Miku found it childish. Yet again, the velvet voice – albeit the questions still hurt her head and annoyed her to no end – rose again in echoes; "Name?"

"How about you tell yours," her teeth gritted, wincing, "And shut the fuck up."

He winced, but the smile still in presence. As to why she was peering towards him from her shoulders was a mystery to her own self. Was she attracted to him? Gosh, she hoped not.

"That'll be unfair."

"You're unfair."

"Oh really?", the amusement glinted in his voice never disappear. The lift suddenly budged to a halt, and a 'dink' appeared in sound. Doors opened, the man slightly shifted so that he won't touch nor push aside of the young tealette, and when he stepped outside, he gave a wink and a grin, that of mischief. "My name's Kagamine Len, by the way."

And the doors shut after.

By the time Miku arrived at her own room, she was hungry and filthy and goddamn sleepy. Still, she went to a trouble of taking a hot shower, washing away sweat and smell of dust and coffee. Then, she pulled on her nightgown, some hand-me-downs that lasted from two generations so far before it was passed to her. Her apartment, if anything could be said, was fairly small and narrow. Still, it could fit for one person to live there, which was already enough for the eighteen-year old. The said apartment consisted of three rooms, in exception of a living room, actually. Therefore, she used the widest space as a multi-functional room, combining both bedroom and living room. Therefore, it was no surprise that there was a single bed propped against the corner, and was stuffed with more than a dozen of plush toys that came from her childhood, which she cherished so much, and the white duvet wrapping the mattress in such a neat form – she was neat despite her busy hours of work and study – and her pillows squashed under the said dolls or stuffed bears and bunnies. At some other corner, a settee situated right near a second-hand – or was it third-hand? – old-styled television which was fairly small but convenient in use. And to the left, was a desk hoarded in between of two tall bookshelves, keeping another part of her treasures which were the classics and science and fairy tales, even dictionaries and languages. They even piled in Sherlock Holmes, Charles Dickens and Robinson Crusoe. She didn't bother to put lamps on carpets, as it would take space, so instead she hung her lights on ceilings or walls, and even some shelves were glued to the wall. Her wardrobe was placed near the bed, tall and oak, and there was a small table displaying her albums with her dear orphan siblings and Mumsy, too, who despite have a stern look, carried a warm heart. And the kitchen, the space slightly smaller but enough, could held two opposite counters – a blender, a toaster, a microwave and boxes of cereals and chips and jars of cookies and candies filling up the long counters – and a stove propped in between. There was a dishwasher and a porcelain sink, the best Mr Miyagi could gave her. On the right, was a fridge and more cabinets on walls, not that she was obsessed with sticking wood on concrete. There was a small dining table, a circular table that looked akin in those vintage cafés, as well as those two stools – she couldn't afford buying chairs – and a flower vase sat on top, looking proud. Fortunately, too, her apartment had a balcony which she put leftover boxes and more chairs and a table. She had her washing machine in the kitchen as well, which she winced at the mismatching sight. As for her bathroom, they weren't as near as bad – not really like those horror movies with stained mirrors and cracked tiles and bloody bath – Miku didn't even have a bathtub, much to her dismay. But instead, she had a hot shower, a small sink, a mirror and the toilet bowl, and a little addition of a towel rack, of course, against the wall. If only it had a bigger space, maybe, she could fit poor washing machine to its toilet friends. But for now, it have to meddle with the kitchenette, till she could find a proper home in the future. _Hope so_, she sighed. Thus, the longest paragraph in story had ended.

Her eyes were soggy, and it was near two o'clock. But Miku, being hungry, turned on the TV and ravaged whatever food she can find in the fridge. Most of them were cheap wine bottles, and some Jack Daniel's, because she was a drinker but hardly get drunk. There were also some tortillas, a lot of them in normal-sized packets, and a half-eaten burrito from yesterday's dinner. And ham, too, in slices. But her attention was caught towards a Thai food, being her favourite, she grabbed the frozen _pad Thai _and heated it in microwave. Yum. It was her favourite food so far. When her meal was ready, she grabbed the little container and her wine friend and made it to the settee, which after for some hours of work, comforted her ass and back to the max. Miku heaved a relief sigh of some sort. She watched _How I Met Your Mother _whilst her tummy was fed, and gradually felt her eyes closing once again. And unexpectedly, her mind travelled to the mysterious man she met twice today.

_Kagamine Len_. . . Her face coloured, and she shook her head.

No. No. No. No. No.

She's not falling for some guy she met in a lift. She didn't even exactly know who he was, except that he was extremely pompous and rude, and handsomely gorgeous – what?!

Well, Miku bit her lip as she tried to accept the fact, he was _slightly _hot. A little. Yeah. That could work.

But as she closed her eyes, whimpering and starting to get into slumber, her mind had carried Kagamine Len into her dreams, as well as hope. As if the flash of golden crown and eyes resembling the bright sky was beginning to haunt her life.

_Maybe we'll meet again?_

She flinched in between sleeps.

There was this one thing called destiny, after all.

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><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>

**Mozu : Hey guys! It's been a year, isn't it? I'm sorry I went missing but here's some special stuffs for you all! And this'll be long, I can guarantee you!**

**Anyway I got some few questions, which if the **_**first person **_**answered correctly, I'll reward her/him with a onesyot with any plot that you want me to write! I'll do a shoutout too. So here's the questions;**

**-The food Pad Thai happened to be a favourite food for a character in a book (which had been turned into a movie in 2013). Who is the character? And what movie is it?**

**It's pretty easy for me. Huehuehue. Just kidding. Anyway, here's free cookies! So, please review!**

**-Mozu The Mochi (2014)**


	2. Chapter One

**Credits for reviewers! :**

**VeryBerry96**

**Deeeee (jerk haha jk)**

**Hagane I'mAlwaysaGhoul Lui**

**Awesome D.T**

**Hana Okita**

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><p><strong>AKA, Liar Syndrome<strong>

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**PART I**

**SEDUCTION**

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**CHAPTER ONE**

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><p>Morning was supposed to be peaceful and quiet saved by the voices coming from morning joggers and the housewives getting off to the markets because there was a sale on eggs today, as usual. Too bad though, today's morning was messy and haste for the young Suzune Miku as she dashed quickly to her class. She doubted her lecturer, this time, would let her go off. There had been more than a dozen of cases due to her being late. Sleeping in lectures was something else, but late. . . There would be notices, more lecturers, scolds, extra tasks piled in between overdue assignments. Perhaps, she was born with a bad luck after all.<p>

And there was she, still in the heavy streets which literally, were packed with crowds of businessmen or kids or mothers or delinquent students heading to arcades or alleys for drugs. Anyway, Miku couldn't care less about their lives; hers was much crucial and, you could say, in danger – if the wrath of a college teacher could kill – and closer to the verge of dying. Despite the early setting of the sun, be it 8AM, she was sweating buckets and she could sniffed the not-so-good smell against her skin after all. Her dress – despite her fiery manner or the slightest tomboy mien – of lemon green that reached above her knees and a thin sweeper that brushed against the chiffon was presented with the odour. Her sweat. Damn, if only she had her perfume. And how she wished she could throw off her black leather boots away so that she could run bare feet. It was faster to reach her class by bare feet, she loathed the heels beneath the shoes, plus she was stuck with a red sign of a traffic. With an irritated growl that sent a kid whimpering, Miku reeled away from the waiting crowd and dashed away, once again.

It was then, when she was about two kilometres from her campus that the number of citizens had subdued, washing her with a relief feeling. Though, she had taken the longer route, which would sum up her fatigue and, of course, the time. Her bag felt like a stone, but she urged herself to move faster, her hair once again turned into a horrifying mass of summer forest. She wished to cut it short soon, but saloons are super expensive these days.

And just when yesterday, she had loathed the lavishing Kagamine Len, the said man had appeared in person – but it wouldn't be complete with another addition of luxury which was a Lamborghini – and he stopped the ride, reeled the window downwards, and gave her a goofy grin. She had her eyes widened in shock, instead of the usual frown first, and crossed her arms.

"Are you – Are you following me?", she scoffed, and turned away to avoid Len's gaze.

He laughed, never ceased to feel amused towards the girl despite their new meetings upon each other. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I just saw you nearby so I thought about giving you a ride, perhaps?"

The tealette hardened her glare, cold yet burning gaze, "No thanks."

"Why? Are you afraid?" – again, please stop with those laughs! – "I'm just taking you to where you want to go. . . Let me guess, Tokyo College?" It caused the girl to gasp and eyes widened in surprise, before it faded and changed back to the previous glare.

"You stalker!", she exclaimed, horrified, whipped her body to the direction she wanted – but really, she had bad luck today – her foot caught up and she stumbled, face first. After that, Kagamine Len heard nothing from the girl, no yells or cries or scoffs. It was dead silence. He exited the car, in frantic and panic, and immediately to grab hold of the teal-haired. There were questions, from – "Are you okay?" or "Does your face hurt?" – no response was given. He shook her body but her eyes were closed and her breathes, luckily, were regular. Was she unconscious? Truth to be told, this may be the first he ever caused a girl to faint. Or in the first place, wasn't it her own fault – her clumsiness – that caused her own, um, demise?

Unable to control the bubbly feeling rising in his chest, he sorted out a guffaw, loud and rumbling in his chest. Miku, whom had her face closed to his chest, immediately opened her eyes. Her head felt like she was hit by a dumpster, but hurt as she may, she felt mortified than in a binding pain. Her face coloured, and she quickly pushed his broad shoulders away from her vision.

"Get away from me, you stranger!"

She got up rather fast, quick in action before her body dropped again – and stood – and fall – impossible. Perhaps it was her vision, still seeing circles and stars and butterflies, and her head was still aching. Falling against some pavement was not some funny cases! Miku whimpered, holding her forehead before a pair of arms wrapped against her shoulders, supporting.

Despite the frown evident on her lips, he simply smiled and asked, like a fool he supposed to be; "Still hurt?"

". . . Go away," she pushed him again, "I'm totally fine without your help, stranger!" _Or maybe he's a. . . he's a criminal trying to kidnap me for some ransom! _She gave him a look.

"Seriously? I've told you my name, didn't I?"

The tealette swallowed. "Even so. . . I don't really know you."

"Isn't a name enough?"

"Of course not, silly!"

He laughed. Again, with his usual stupid, high-pitched voice. The teal-haired wanted to wipe that silly grin off his face and let him taste how fucked-up her life was now. If only, she could. She hoped so.

That is, until she remembered about her schedule.

"O-oh gosh! I'm super late!" In haste and panic, Miku left the blonde, who by now was in sheer surprise and confused, and rushed quickly to her campus. No longer did she pay any heed to the startled man, even as he shouted 'miss' continuously. She had already ran afar, and he glanced at her small silhouette that soon disappear before his attention riveted towards the dainty wallet he had took the risk to steal. He opened the fine, albeit worn out, leather and finally saw what he wanted – "Suzune Miku," he laughed – it was an adorable name, actually. The blonde scratched his head, realizing now in trouble, because he purposely had stolen her wallet just to see her name. Oh well, a lie wouldn't hurt. He got into his car and speed off somewhere. The blonde thought for a moment, remembering her mentioning something about late. _Classes?_ He grinned and reached for his precious Samsung before dialling someone's number.

As for the eighteen-year old youth, when, finally – even though it took her about half an hour to reach here – she reached at the seminar's entrance, did the lecturer appeared right in front of her, his face twisted into an expression that could only be described as rage. Miku shut her eyes tightly, cringing, as she obediently waited for an upcoming scolding from the middle-aged professor. But all she received was a sigh and some – "You may come in." Her eyes cracked open and the ocean green optics enlarged.

"Ex-excuse me, sir?!"

"You heard me! Get in before I change my mind!", he did sound furious, but the teal-haired student could heard him bite back his anger, urging himself to calm down. "If it wasn't for him to contact me, I wouldn't let you pass like this." And again, a sigh.

_Him?_

_Len?_

_He – what?!_

"Oh, um, thanks." And she slid past him, wearing a blank look in spite of the breaking news.

There were too many questions she wanted to ask._ Too_ many. Like, was he following her and so on. Then again, he was a stranger. A supposed random customer she should only meet within two minutes and serve his Chai tea. A mysterious, fucked-up, pompous stranger that she felt like strangling him to death because he was either too noisy or too annoying. Good looks be damned, even with a proposal of a million dollar ring, she would never accept a man like that in her life. With that thought, she nodded confidently, almost grinning like a bubbly fool, before she thought about the words back and blushed furiously. _Marry? _What was she thinking!

She slid to her seat, near a shorter girl who, unlike her, acted much elegant and lady-like. The girl did tensed her shoulders, leaned against the tealette and whispered as quiet as she could; "Hey, you're unexpectedly this late. What happened?" Typical Gumi. Never gets tired of being curious. One of her hobbies was to know about others' problems, and sooner or later, would she turn those stuffs into gossips, spreading them as if a scandal was about to occur. Still, Miku bit her lower lip, she was a nice friend. Supportive, at least. To be honest, Gumi had an average look, but what made her be considered among the pretty little ladies lining up in the list of popularity was her style – despite her short, lime green waves and similar-coloured eyes and a few set of freckles – always came from the latest. Yes, she was a magazine collector, and her bookshelves instead of being filled with good books with actual words, had Elle, Seventeen and God knows what else. Therefore, it was no surprise that she would change her colours of clothes or perhaps how the shirts were supposed to be styled – like, "It's summer so we wear yellow and bikinis!" – or some stuffs Miku couldn't take any attention too. And she's a boyfriend advisor, too, much reminding Miku of her senior best friend, Megurine Luka.

"Nothing much, to be honest," her eyes narrowed, and she turned to the scribble her notebook.

Gumi, who tend to giggle than laugh, burst out, "Liar," and leaned even closer, "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"And you're a terrible friend," Miku gave her best smiles, cheekily.

"Oh, when was that? Hey, remember when you decided to go to prom and I was the one who did your makeover –"

"Luka was there as well."

"As well," she threw back, "I did most of it, like the dress, shoes and make-up. You dare call me a terrible friend?" Miku snorted, attempting not to agree with that, saying, "And then left me alone in the prom? That's a good friend?"

"Oh, shut up!", the other green-haired giggled, "You know I danced with you in the end!"

They laughed together. Still, after the fits of giggles and laughter ended, Gumi had her brows arched and eyes glinted with question marks.

Miku gave up. "Fine. . . I'll tell you, jerk."

The greenette cheered quietly, while pretending to focus on some Chemistry's formula and taking notes, her ears were eager to listen to her friend's previous incident.

"There was this one guy I met last night –"

"Is he hot?"

"Listen!", the teal-haired hissed, though playfully, before continuing. "He went to the café that I work at, and then I met him again in my apartment's lift. I don't know if he was following me," she shrugged, "But today, I met him again in a freaking Lambo."

Gumi gasped, "A what?!", almost loudly before clasping her mouth and proceed to an apology to the students in front. "He should be your boyfriend! Go on and flirt with him!"

She jeered, "Him? No way! He's annoying and snobby!"

"And you're sassy. What could go wrong?"

"No way, not in a million years," shaking her head as to mark it as a permanent decision. Gumi looked a bit disappointed, as the lady-like friend of hers chewed her pen and mumbled something like – "Still, you can take the chance. . ." – and continued their lessons.

_Chance, my ass. _

Rolling her eyes, she returned her attention towards Chemistry, finally.

* * *

><p>And she was right about Gumi spreading gossips. When a four hours lunch break kicked in, she went to a nearby restaurant that served some good Western in the opposite street. At first, Miku tend to eat alone – being the non-socializing girl she was – but she saw a familiar group from afar. Before she could retaliate, a hand clutched around her wrist, pulling her into the circle and made her ass fully seated on the fluff settee, and worst, squashed in between two nosy girls.<p>

"I heard you found a man," the pink-haired, loud but gorgeous Luka chuckled, a bubbly voice that somewhat reminded her of Len's own laughter. The tealette, in denial, shook her head rapidly, her cheeks heating.

The other four, who were seniors, three men and another girl joined in the conversation.

"Heard he got a Lambo."

"Met you in the café."

"And followed you home."

"Aw, that's sweet!", the senior girl laughed along with the men.

"Seewoo, Kaito, Gakupo and SeeU, please keep your voice down!", Miku tried to chide them but failed to do so. Instead, being the ever-so-loud bunch, they had increased the volume of their voices. She gritted her teeth, appalled and irritated.

Kaito, the senior with dark sapphire hair and shining eyes, grinned, "Don't be shy! It's just among close friends, right guys?" They all yelled in agreement.

"Still. . .", the girl of attention returned to Gumi, "I knew you would tell!"

"But we're all best friends!", she poked her tongue out. The only thought in Miku's mind was to pull that tongue and cut it with scissors. That's how mad she was. But they were her only friends. Despite their status, they were eager to have the introvert in their little circle. And even when she, most of the time, thought they were some bunch of actual douchebags, they did lifted a partial of her burdens or depressions, especially when her wallet had nothing but an ID card and receipts and no cash. Finally, she let herself a smile.

"Fine, you guys win."

They all cheered, loud, causing her to blush once again. So, she told them everything, earnestly but hastily. Honestly, if only they could listen to lectures like how they listened to gossips or rumours, that would be nice.

" –He keeps on following me," Miku sighed, "Actually, this is just the third time. But coincidentally? I guess not."

Her Korean friend smiled, "Trust me, that's how guys got attracted to a girl."

"Pfft, like a girl collecting pictures could go wrong," her twin brother retorted, as if looking for an argument. They did, and the bickering soon turned into an intense debate battle which the others could only watched.

After realizing that an hour had ticked by, they had ordered some coffee – fragrance tea with two sugar cubes for Gumi – and their meals. Miku, who knew that she only had a couple of yen to spare, order something light and cheap. The others stared, eyes narrowed, as they knew she was financially tight and an orphan. The pink-haired friend, wanting to be nice – and also she felt guilty for pushing her so much just for some interesting story to humor them – cleared her throat and nudged the shorter one's shoulder, coaxing, "Hey, pick something heavy. I know you haven't had breakfast, judging from that monster in your belly."

The tealette gasped, "Oh no! You've spent me enough already! I mean, look at this dress! You –"

"Hush now, and let me be a good sister."

"No, I've got plenty of money! Believe me!", she started to rant about a grand dinner while she dove her hands into the sling back she often carried and searched for the little leather.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

Three –

"M. . . My – my wallet's gone!" And she screamed in frustration, disrupting the other customers who, by now, laden with surprise. "My wallet. . .", her forehead hit the surface of the table, and cried uncontrollably.

The others, panicked, tried to calm her down.

"H-hey, we can spare you some change, okay?"

"Look, free money!"

"Crying is so un-ladylike!"

"Shut up, Gumi! Now's not the time to go all-vintage!"

"Hey, I'm just sorting out manners here!"

"Someone take that bitch outside!"

"Hey, I'm not a bitch!", she retorted, looking hurt.

Luka sighed and pointed her index finger towards the two bickering lads, Gumi and Gakupo, "You two, run off." Though her voice sounded calm, they knew better than to refuse. So, the two of them got off from the seats and continued the heated argument somewhere else.

The pink-haired huff, clearing the tension from her head and turned to her, now in deep trouble, friend. "Look, we'll find your wallet or – or contact the police but now I want you to at least eat."

"But –"

"No buts!", she eyed the tealette sternly, "I don't you to die in the middle of lecture or when you get to work later! Just order a freaking food."

The nineteen-year old often carried a gentle manner despite whatever chaos may be. But alas, everyone had their limits and hers are pushed when it involved her friend's health and problems. Perhaps, that was why she was known as the most caring friend, because in spite of her career – although still an amateur in pursuing a job as a weekly magazine's model – she was nice and loving and a sister that Miku always seek. They had been friends since elementary, the tealette playing softball alone in the court and she had peeked from the very corner. Luka had seen, despite the tough act and brazen-faced, a slight weakness and a longing for a companion, or to be precise, a family in the little girl's eyes. And up till now, their ten years of friendship lasting, the dull cast in her eyes of a similar reason stayed.

"Okay, I'll take whatever you want me to eat."

Luka grinned, "Now, that's a good little sister." – and she ordered a large steak, forcing the other girl ate it with a torturous face later on – Miku was never a big eater, if you gave her a small bowl of rice, she'll only feed on a quarter of it – thus, resulting on her extremely light weight and skinny arms.

The others could only watch their poor friend in despair, and showed their best supportive smiles.

* * *

><p>The other two, however, was long forgotten by their circles. So, they had resulted to buy their food from a vending machine again, their hands occupied with snacks in small packets and tons of Coke, a lot of them actually. Gumi could only sighed, her hands wrapped around the metallic can and having herself comfortably seated on a bench. Gakupo followed after, snacking on chips.<p>

"Hey, are you still mad?"

"Don't talk to me."

"You're talking."

"Shut up."

"You too."

She turned, huffing in a remarkable anger before calming herself down, and she took a sip of the sugary drink. "Poor Miku."

"I wish we could find her family."

"It's not that easy," Gumi snorted, her eyes rolled, showing sarcasm. Gakupo tsked in return, his eyes of a rare violet colour reverted to a crowd. They sat in full silence, a painful one, but none of them dreaded to start a conversation. So, just like that, they eat and drink, watching as people passed by; kids running, high school girls in uniforms sashayed in groups, either flirting or gossiping. Today's weather was rather hot and sunny, for the lemon-yellow sunshine loomed proudly above their heads. Still, it didn't stop the citizen from being busy. Gumi sighed painfully, lifting her body when she wanted to stand, when suddenly a man walked by, too close, they hit against each other and her ass landed back to the bench. Gakupo knew what was coming, and he excused himself to throw some trash to a further trash can. Fuming, Gumi stood when the man, with an apologetic look, smiled guiltily.

"Sorry –"

"Sorry, my ass!" – her manners were thrown off somewhere before she regained her composure – "Ugh, never mind. Just go away."

But the man didn't. And Gumi glared at him, the flash of bright green pierced through a glassy, icy blue which threw back another stare, although not as stern, was intimidating. He looked at her in a strange manner, almost as if he recognized her.

"Speaking of which, are you Suzune Miku's friend?"

Her eyes widened before contracted, her lips pursed before she guessed, "Are you the man who had been following her recently?"

She scanned through the man. Akin to the tealette's description of a rather tall man, and a crown of golden waves that sputtered about in a messy yet suitable fashion, and cold blue eyes contrasting his pale features. In a rather neat way, he was adorned with a businessman kind of suit – of what she could guessed as Polo branded and polished fine leather for shoes – and he carried around a Braun Buffel bag. He gave a toothy grin, his eyes brightened, "Am I famous already?"

"Maybe," she laughed. Okay, maybe she seemed a little excited. The man was, in fact, gorgeous to her eyes. She was already falling in love. But she remembered that the man should belonged to someone else. So instead, she simpered lightly, "I was with Miku just an hour ago. Maybe they're still in the restaurant – do you, um, want to meet her?"

He smiled, but he looked at his watch. "I want to but I'm going to be late for a meeting."

"Aw." The green-haired female looked upset.

"Maybe another time," he set his foot forward, before a thought clicked in his head, "Oh! Can you give her this? It belongs to her, I believe." In a swift motion, even before she could actually took it, he handed her a familiar-looking wallet and because of his haste, had dropped to the ground. Gumi, who was actually taken aback, turned to him after she caught hold of the wallet but the blonde – who was really shrouding with mystery – had ran afar.

The wallet in her grasp was very familiar. She glanced at the old material. The wallet belonged to. . . Miku.

"WHAT?!"

* * *

><p>Lunch hour had already ended. Miku rushed to the library, even with its poor state, to meet up with her assignment partners before they left to another, much better, library or somewhere they could do work in peace and comfort. She had her tummy full, and embarrassingly bulging from last time's meal. Sometimes Luka's form of nice was dangerous, and even leading to death but she knew she can't refuse. Oh well, she wouldn't have to touch dinner tonight after all. The corridor seemed empty, so the clack of her boots echoed, too loud, against the concrete. She checked her phone, its juice almost drained but fortunately she had a spare power resource in her sling bag. It was just around three in the evening, and she had another couple of hours before she went to her night's shift. Her boot kicked an empty can, sending it to fly towards a further distance before landing right close to the trash can. She cursed, appalled, at her lack of athleticism. It was quiet, sort of lonely, but she pursed her lips and tried to stay optimistic – her friends may not be able to accompany her every single second, could they?<p>

A voice, well-known to the tealette, startled her and she turned around to see Gumi with a face that screamed big news.

"Gumi?"

"Miku! I –", she breathed out, and inhaled before slouching against her teal-haired friend's shoulder. , "I. . . I met that guy you talked about! What was his name? Ren? Lon?"

"Len?", the one with curly teal tresses laughed, "Seriously Lon sounded great as well. Weird, but great."

"Oh, shut it! This is something much crucial than those stupid names!"

Miku wondered what was it about. _Perhaps he had violated Gumi! Maybe that's why he approached me because I had beautiful friends! _She didn't look amused at all. In fact, the tealette gasped and had her face scrunched up in anger. Gumi knew what she was thinking, and flicked her forehead instead.

"He's not a pedo, my friend," green eyes rolled, "He gave me this instead." – upon the wallet being received by the rightful owner, she gasped and stared in disbelief before she started to spout nonsense, looked at the greenette with wide ocean eyes, talked crap again and her mouth gaped like a stranded goldfish. "For fuck's sake, calm down!" Okay, Gumi was losing her patience. She was hoping for a gratitude – a thanks at least or some questions or "How was he?" – but none of that ever came.

"Why did he have my wallet?", she checked the insides, in case of missing properties but she noticed her cash, the few pennies and bills left untouched, and her cards were still intact. _Nothing was stolen! What was his purpose then? Or maybe – _she felt mortified _– it fell off when I got. . . Ugh! Stop thinking about it!_

"Thanks, I guess." Her face was blank. No surprise, no wide eyes or gasp, or even hints of anger or slight disappointment. Gumi was expecting one, especially when it came to the quick-tempered person who stood like a mannequin and held a very straight face, she began to worry.

"Are you. . . still alive?"

No answer.

"Are you okay?", Gumi gulped, hands stroking her back to comfort the girl who was about to die from heart attack, or perhaps now, stroke.

". . . I hope so."

The girl walked past her friend, her eyes no longer glimpsed towards the green-haired female nor did the sight landed on anything but the front view. Zombie-like, she headed to the library without any further thoughts – except the idea of strangling Len for tonight. Yeah, that sounds good.

* * *

><p>"I'm going home for now," her supposed partner said in a hurry, his hands fumbling against the strings that bound him with the garment. Miku just smiled awkwardly, although as a façade, she understood. The café was, as usual, filled with smooches and hugs. This night, though, the customers seemed to double in numbers and she wondered why. And how they never got tired of seeing each other was out of question. Oh, don't let me start with the sex, speaking of which, there was a girl who started to un-button her shirt in front of a gangly though high school boy, which the man who was about to go home yelled them to get out before he left for home. Meanwhile, she was busy preparing a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and sprinkles and a chocolate stick for a six-year old girl who peered at her from the counter. She glanced at the blonde kid, much reminding her of Len, she cursed inwardly, and gestured the kid a soft smile in return. The kid beamed, happy to get recognized.<p>

She pushed the mug, stroking the little kid's head, and averted her attention to a new customer. Before she could smile, her lips dropped into a deep scowl, her turmoil of anger returned.

"You suit to be a mother, honestly," the blonde cooed – was it proud twinkling in his eyes – in slight amusement. Honestly, what did she ever do to entertain this stranger. Or otherwise, he may had his head fucked by some psychopathic movies, they reflected his personality. Brr.

She mocked at him, giving the blonde the hardest glare she had ever delivered, and in a rather harsh tone, barked, "Get out."

He looked at her questioningly. "What? You're supposed to serve me. I am a customer."

"No, you're a fucking stalker," she replied, "Now, get out."

He smiled, finding it amusing how she never gave up on kicking him out and every words he spoke were fought back with another set of sentences, laden with the thickest and sharpest blade enough to break a gentleman's heart. But Len wasn't one easily swayed by rough words, much less profanities. If she wanted to play, so be it.

"How about no?"

"How about yes?"

"Alright," he challenged, "Kiss me first."

Taken aback, her anger had now reached full limits. She made her way from the counter and pushed him, hard – strong enough to make him stumble backwards but foot still intact on the cracked and dirty floors.

"Just leave me alone, you brat!", fuming, "Speaking of which, you stole my wallet."

"Are you sure?", he eyed her, brows scrunched up as he had the looks to challenge her again and again. He wasn't getting anywhere, and so did she.

She hissed furiously; "Yes! Otherwise, you wouldn't have this!", she showed the small piece of her money-holder, swaying it as if to look intimidating. Len thought so, but he wasn't the slightest scared. In fact, he felt intrigued towards the shorter female, how enthusiastic she was to have a battle of words against him. The two knew that many pairs of eyes were watching the commotion of pushing and shouting, and they whispered something about 'lover's fight'. Miku felt like she wanted to punch them later.

"Calm down. It fell, okay?", he assured her. But she wasn't going to let him pass.

"Oh? I bet you're trying to get your hands to know my name, didn't you?"

Bingo. When she said that, his foot retreated backwards and his jaw dropped, surprised. For a while, she felt the glorious victory washed upon her before they continued another round, for Len had stopped his outrageous look of surprise and smirked mischievously instead. "It's to be fair. You didn't tell me your name last night."

"Heck – why should I?!"

"Manners?"

"Go away, stranger!"

"Again? But you know my name and I know yours!"

"Stop with the names! You're still scary and I hate you!"

She punched him straight at the jaw, and he toppled backwards and crashed to an untouched table, before his hands grasped at the end for support. There was a bruise, all right. A large dark blue mixed with black starting to appear on his jaw. The rest of the customers gasped and looked at Miku, in sheer surprise, and shook their heads directly to her. She pursed her lips, and glared them away. Len's mood, unexpectedly quick, changed from the bubbly, teasing Len to a quiet yet deadly aura pooling around him; and the set of sapphire glows were lowered and hardened, like blades that stabbed right to her chest and the tealette felt guilty for the first time. He breathed, fast, before slowly decreasing and finally went back to regular paces. The tealette gulped, suddenly awash with fright, and she walked back to the counter.

"Just. . . leave me alone." He heard her sobs. For the first time, he obliged to her and left the café.

She stood, dumbfounded and hurt, and clutched her painful chest.

_Stupid dim-witted guy! Now, I'm a mess because of you!"_

She didn't know the man was thinking as similar as her. He walked in the lonely streets with a bit of a broken jaw and mixed emotions, but mostly pain. He wandered off, perhaps to home and treated the bruise. He thought back about the punch, the anger in bright bluish-green hues, the shouts, her hurt expression in the end. The blonde laughed bitterly; "You're such a tough girl, aren't you?", he kicked a rock, causing it to fly and landed on heaps of dust and debris, "Sassy girl."

Perhaps, one day.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>

**Mozu : A longer one! Hope you like it! And nobody's answering my questions in the prologue. Nobody wants a onesyot? Nobody? *crickets* Okay. . . Huehuehue. Anyway, I can't tell you how Len knew literally her friends and stuffs, it's supposed to be a secret until the time comes. So, if you find out, read it! Hah! *kicks into hell because I'm too evil***

**I'm going to post another fic soon, but it's Shingeki No Kyojin. I hope some of you like that series because I'm making it a multi-chapter fiction.**

***throws cookies and dances away***

**MOVE YOUR LAZY FINGERS AND REVIEW, PEOPLE!**

**-Mozu The Mochi (2014)**


	3. Chapter Two

**CREDITS TO THOSE WHO REVIEW :**

**Hagane I'mAlwaysaGhoul Lui**

**PopCandyStar**

**Awesome D.T**

* * *

><p><strong>AKA, Liar Syndrome<strong>

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**PART I**

**SEDUCTION**

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**.**

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

><p>Empty and deserted lanes and highways somehow made him felt a tad lonely. Len couldn't figure out anything if he was supposed to be stranded in the middle of the night, he checked the time, two o'clock in the morning to be exact. His white chiffon shirt smelt like booze, and so does his breathes. But his head wasn't cleared from his worries yet. There were jobs, there were tasks and homework, and a sister needed to be taken care of. A spoilt sister. Yeah, even if she's older than him by a range of two years, she would always whine about the lack of oranges in their apartment, or sometimes the lack of a companion since he's always out. Perhaps, he could plant an orange tree in exchange of his faults and to fulfil her desires – nah. His landlord would be downright pissed to find out a mysterious-looking tree suddenly creep out from the ground one day. Still, it would be fun to find out. Such thoughts lifted his mood and heavy heart, better than the alcohol, at the very least.<p>

Still, his loneliness was difficult to be mended. But he shook his head, knowing his efforts were futile and, in fact, too early. There was a pang of guilt, and the searing pain from his jaw, bruise still intact against his almost-too-perfect skin. It was just too early, he sighed. And too be honest, it requires him a lot more time than fucking six months. A year would do, but his boss was anything but nice. And the payment was, compared to him, was not plenty at all. Just six fucking digits of dollars, Euro dollars as he requested, not that he was greedy, but he was expecting a million's worth price.

And upon reaching towards a block of tall concrete towers, the car manoeuvred from the main asphalt and passed through the metallic gates. He parked the Lambo somewhere, near Block C, and noticed his sister's Cadillac wasn't in its usual park. The blonde, suspicious, furrowed his eyebrows and quickly – although he made his composures poised all the time – ran to the most top floors, the thirtieth floor, and slipped into his own luxury.

Which, was indeed a true luxury. It was a fucking condo, all right, but that didn't stop them from acquiring a two-floored home instead of the usual style for a condo. And due to the large space, their home was equipped with a ringhole, brass-coloured railings rounded the said ringhole, thus the broad and high ceiling was embellished with a gargantuan chandelier that looked similar to a ballroom's lights. From the lowest ground, the living room could have fit a hundred inches television, or perhaps even larger, and was adorned with plush settees and cushions and an expensive coffee table situated right in the centre. The entire walls were in vermillion shades, and the floors were either equipped in mosaic or fluffy, thick carpets. Otherwise, the blonde didn't care about the luxury as long as he had comfort but his sister was persistent about having a paradise as home. And since they couldn't afford a mansion, at the very least, they received this grand home. The kitchen, too, was a chef's dream – from its variety of kitchen equipment, stoves and ovens and pizza ovens and a hell-of-a-kind, sort of fabulous – Rin had defined the storage as – fridge. Above, the condo provided them with four bedrooms, a laundry room, a small room for a library and three, grandly decorated, bathrooms. Rin had preferred a bright orange paint for her bedroom, and his was gold to the finest, even the four-poster bed and – yes, each bedrooms were at least equipped with the latest televisions – bookshelves and either armchairs or long couches had similar, matching colours. They did, however, changed one of the bedroom into a music room, and Len's piano was placed in the most corner, hidden in a quite shady place. He rarely play, but when he did, it was the finest piece. Of course, sometimes his sister thought she heard a tinge of sad tunes albeit the actually happy songs. And I wouldn't want dare say about the satisfying showers and Jacuzzi tubs in the washrooms. There was a veranda too which resulted as Rin's favourite place for refining arts, as she would have concluded. And there's a telescope too, he dimly remembered. For God's sake, if I would describe even the slightest definition of furniture and ornaments, this paragraph would be too long, even worst than describing a Queen's palace in London!

The youngest of Kagamine scanned his blue eyes around, looking for a familiar figure with blonde curls somewhere, but somehow undetected. He began to panic slightly, but his heart slowed down to the usual pace when he heard the high-pitched voice belonged to his sister. "Len?"

She yawned, rather loud and impolite but heck, why need to consider manners when they're siblings? Rin, who albeit had the identical bright yellow mass of curls and blue shades of eyes, her face was smaller and eyes bigger than the male's, and slightly shorter than the growing man. The bags under her eyes indicated that she had been painting till late night.

"You should sleep," he sneered, moving past his sister as he placed his shoes inside the shoe rack before heading to grab another bottle of wine. Rin noticed, and grabbed his forearm before slamming his body against the wall.

"No – wait," she slurred before shaking her head to gain full consciousness, "Don't you fucking drink! And – oh my God, is that a bruise?!" The shorter blonde was horrified, and her hands roughly whisked his jaw as if he was a repairable puppet and gave him a death glare. "Kagamine Len, have you been fighting again?"

"Not your business." He pushed her hands, even causing her to stumble, and retrieved a carton of lemonade and a glass. "I'm fine."

"Then, what's with that bruise?!"

"I, uh, hit the pole."

"With your jaw? Don't you fucking dare tell a joke!", she yelled in anger and chased him when he dragged his tired body to the living room. And after finding a suitable settee, his body dropped and blue eyes shut to give them a little rest. "Is it. . . Is it the girl?", she grasped her hair out of frustration, and at once, attempted to calm down.

"Not really. . . Maybe. . . Yeah."

No response was given, instead, was just a huff. Oh God, she almost got cancer thinking about it.

"And by the way, I didn't see your Cadillac anywhere." The topic slid off easily, and Rin flinched upon hearing the words. She looked nervous, her fingers fumbling and her feet fidgeting. "Rin. . ." he growled, almost threateningly.

She sighed, hands massaged her temples as if she was depressed, "I'm sorry, Len – I –"

"Don't say you sold it, did you?" – and when Rin gave him silence his voice raised and so does her spirit – which nearly did it flee away – "Did you, Rin?!"

"I'm sorry!", she sobbed uncontrollably. By now, her small hands had covered her eyes, then the entire face as she wept in shame and despair.

"I don't have a choice! We don't have even the slightest penny to live now, Len! And you dare call yourself some. . . – some professional stupid – ugh, I don't know! Why did you work with that man?! You got a chance, a promotion. But no –! You prefer his stupid bargain than being a fucking proper man!" the taller but younger blonde parted his lips, but his breathe hitched when another yell was given, this time her voice slightly low but tinged with despair; "We used to have a good life. I got a good career as a painter for once and you did your college nicely but now you're. . . ugh, you're so useless!"

"Don't you talk about a good life here. . ." Len closed the distance between Rin and himself, and she could feel his breaths touching her skin. Unfazed, she returned his glare with an identical look. "You don't know what happen to that old man –"

"Leon's thirty-seven, Len."

"Yeah, who cares about age when he's not here anymore!", the blonde, supposed, to have be in anger but the oldest knew better than that. She knew when he pretended to be brave, she knew he was, once, in the verge of breaking to a point of no return. She knew he was crying, and his smiles were never sincere. And so do now, she knew he wasn't angry, but crying his heart out of loneliness and the absence of the role of a big brother figure and caretaker.

The blonde male whispered, almost inaudibly, "He's dead, Rin."

"Stop."

"He's fucking dead."

"S-stop!"

"He won't come back. . . He's –"

"I SAID STOP!", her temper broke, "Stop talking, you stupid dickhead!"

She hit the poor man, clenched fist towards abdomen and this time, he didn't attempt to resist or avoid, so he let himself fall towards the mosaic with a loud. Regret but pissed, the shorter blonde stormed back, retreating to her own bedroom and God knows what next – perhaps wetting her bed sheets with tears for the whole night. He didn't make any effort to stop her, he knew better than that. So, with his head lowered, he gave a frustrated yell and kicked the coffee table's foot.

And once again, he walked out from the door and went for a drive again, this time, for another purpose. The screeching sounds, perhaps, could mend his sorrow as he drove his poor Lambo against the asphalt, heading towards a certain city.

* * *

><p>"Shit, you've been bruised by girls lately."<p>

"What do you mean 'lately', dumbass." Len sighed, enjoying himself the last sip of cheap beer. He had slouched himself on a long sofa, trying to lull himself to sleep. But his friend refused to let him, thinking that he might be dying, and instead proceed to chat with him. Gosh, it was four fucking thirty. "I'll appreciate it if you stop talking, Gumo."

The said person crossed his arms, releasing a sort of a huff and just shook his head upon the, indeed, pitiful sight. The supposed neat blonde waves were greasy and disheveled, and he looked like he was about to die from his apparent fatigue soon. So, instead of a reply, he let the blonde sleep on his couch while proceed with his usual work.

Well, you could describe Gumo as a nocturnal person. He sleeps in the days, and work when the moon crept out. Of course, because his work required a shady place and a shady time, that was why he always roamed in the streets near Shinjuku's bar, above the bar filled with music and beer and sweat and sex, was actually his home. The said street was silent throughout the sunny days, almost abandoned-looking but in truth, the place became wild at night. And that was where he spent his life most, in the darkest parts of alleyways and the fucked-up bar, either playing poker or sliding a knife against people's throats. And the best part was, according to Len, how he worked as a freelancer and wasn't tied to any bargains or contract. Unlike Len, he didn't have an appearance of an arrogant, wealthy man but he kept himself in jumpers and worn-out jeans, lime green hair messy and a tad long, and God knows why he kept a pair of goggles perched against his forehead. The greenette slipped himself passed the tired man and approached his unforgiving bed, a flash of memories starting flood him, and he began to wonder if he was in that age to be considered old.

"I used to wish I was you, y'know, after Uncle died." – was what his dear friend had said, about a year ago.

Leon, whatever the names, was indeed famous, or to be exact, _used to be famous_, in the shady parts of business. He was, of course, a normal business CEO but that doesn't mean he had not a group of his own men, if you know what I, as an author, meant. And the older blonde man spent most of his life in his grand office or the casinos for wealthy people, bargaining money or life, whatever the supposed business was. Yeah, he was busy with gambling and work but this man called Leon was a very nice person, despite his fierce looks, often misunderstood. And excellently, he played the role of a big brother and an inspiration to the young Kagamine. But about three years ago – Len was fucking seventeen – Gumi was twenty-one at that moment – his death was announced whilst the poor, young blonde was in school, preparing for his graduation. Honestly, as he remembered those days, his graduation ceremony didn't end up well. Yes, the green-haired man dimly remembered the swollen-eyed Len receiving his Best Student Award and giving a half-hearted speech. Rin almost burst into tears, which actually she did later on, upon listening to his cries on stage. It was embarrassing, yes, but heart-breaking too. Especially since they became orphans when they were five and seven respectively, and Leon was the one who had picked the two of them from the streets, abandoned.

"Gosh, I sounded old," Gumo talked to himself, disgusted towards his sudden soft manner, because he wasn't the type to soften, even towards kids or when he had to play Santa. But when his eyes fell to Len, the sleeping Len who looked weak and worn out and somewhat suicidal, his eyes softened before he grabbed a pile of quilts and threw them onto his shivering body. "You better sleep well, and make things right tomorrow," and he snorted, as he noticed the time, "Or today."

"I believe in you, dumbass."

* * *

><p>Miku was, much surprisingly, early that day. Perhaps, she either didn't want to stumble upon a certain blonde or to meet another lecturer's wrath or only wanting to be a good girl for once. Unfortunately, though, she didn't look as good as the other days and her clothes – resulting of a long-sleeved black chiffon and brown vest and a pair of Levi's – Luka's Christmas gift from last year – was either crooked or torn. Or both, it was possible. Her crown of ocean blue and green was in twin braids, but the strands stood out messily, and she huffed at her own look. Not that she minded about her appearances, but sometimes Gumi had a tendency of giving her lectures – again, free unwanted lectures! – about being a lady requires good looks and proper outfit, blah blah blah.<p>

Besides, last night event was not helping to clear her mind anyway. Not when she had inflicted pain towards a – yeah, he was a sort of creep but still – stranger.

"Miku, are you okay?!", that was IA. Despite her soft-spoken and shy manner, when it concern her friend, she could be a lot worse than Luka. Then, Gumi came, adorning herself with a new hairstyle and Calvin Klein's. The tealette noticed when she cringed at her appearance, but there was more of concern flashing in the lime green eyes.

"You are so meeting Luka after class," she checked her watch, "In two hours."

"I'm fine! Stop worrying about me."

Gumi held her wrist, measuring her wrist and showed how skinny she was, and arched her brows in a challenging mien which reminded the tealette of the blonde Kagamine, but proceed to ignore her useless thoughts. "I bet you skipped breakfast, _and_ dinner."

"I had dinner, alright!"

"Of what? Bread crumbs?"

"Gumi, I think that's far more enough –" a strawberry blonde petite piped in.

"Oh, hush! You're too nice!" IA was granted a cynical smile.

Miku sighed, "I'm alright, just lack of sleep –" _Well damn. Shouldn't have said that._

"Then, you need a proper sleep."

The lecturer, this time a woman in mid-fifties, recently entered but Gumi excused herself, and poor Miku, out from the seminar hall and headed towards an infirmary.

"Sleep." It was a rather fierce order. The tealette wanted to argue and protest, but she bit her tongue and resumed to close her eyes. Gumi smiled in satisfaction, although surprised at her sudden obedience, fled straight to class at last. _Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt._

* * *

><p>"<em>How about you. . . work with me?" –<em>

Icy blue pools cracked open, and he almost shouted as his legs kicked the air and the quilts towards the dirty floor. Len woke up with a headache, the pain seemingly punching him straight to the veins in his brain, and groaned at once. Sunlight washed the floor with its bright yellow shades and morning heat. The blonde whimpered a little, and his blue eyes caught a slight glimpse towards the ticking clock hanging high against the filthy walls. 9.47AM. He scoffed at the time, assuming it was still early and that he concluded he was still sleepy, and laid his body once more towards the stiff but much appreciative couch. His eyes dropped, and he wished himself good dreams when a vision of ocean-haired girl sprang to his eyes.

Suzune Miku. . .

Screw her, he wasn't in a mood to flirt.

He threw a scoff, and continued to slumber.

* * *

><p>"<em>Poor girl."<em>

"_She has no parents."_

"_I heard she was left in front of the orphanage's doorstep when she was an infant."_

"_That cruel? Who's the mother?"_

"_Who knows?"_

"_Maybe it's a slut."_

"_You're saying her as a slut's daughter?"_

"_Yeah, but not her. She's a darling, isn't she?"_

"_Nobody wants to adopt her though."_

"_That's a pity."_

_I don't want to be an orphan._

_I don't want to be alone in the first place._

_I don't want to –_

"Miku?"

_There was a voice, calling her, pulling her from the dream. The voice, mysterious but convincing, was calm and somehow familiar, and suddenly she was awash with a tad desperation. She searched for the voice in haste, shouting in panic, and her forehead and neck slicked with sweat because, fuck, she was afraid. The tealette looked to the right, then to the left, but there was nothing. The voice was unheard of, and so does the host could not be founded. She almost gave up, but the voice came again, much louder and she turned and spun and twirled once more. So much like a fool, she thought bitterly. But there was something that made her curious, or why was she desperate? And then – it was just a flicker of a soft glow – a hand extended. The man looked like she met him somewhere. She knows him, but at the exact moment, she didn't. Still, her hands extended, wanting to touch the other hand – wait, no! Why is it going far – very far – so far – too far!_

"Wake up, shithead!"

Out of surprise, she got up from the infirmary's bed and almost threw a punch towards a man holding deep ocean blue eyes – It was just Shion Kaito, who visited her to retrieve her due to Luka's orders. Somehow, he felt that the title 'boyfriend' was actually just 'slave'. But who was he to complain? There was, of course, times when she could actually be sweet. Oh, and the sex –

"I'm awake and you're spacing out? Seriously?", she snorted out a chortle and shook her head, and hit his own instead, although softly.

"Oh, sorry."

"Thinking about Luka?"

"Her sexy ass."

"Seriously?"

"What? She got the best booty."

Miku laughed, "You date her because of her ass?"

"Not really," he sounded like he got confiscated, and the ocean blue orbs narrowed, "A little."

"Gee, some kind of a friend you are," the tealette scowled, a bit playfully and she poked her tongue out. Her fingers twirled the long strands and she left the bed. "Where's your sweet-assed girlfriend then?"

"Assignments," she heard his disappointment, "But she'll meet us in another few minutes."

"I see," her head lowered, and Kaito knew she was thinking hard. Nobody spoke after that, leaving them in moments of awkward silence. Finally, Miku heaved a sigh, releasing tension and she stood in front of the door, her head didn't even turned to look at the concerned blue eyes; "I'm going somewhere."

"Wait – But –"

"See you."

She slipped through the door and out of the campus building, and left the university, to clear her head. The train of thoughts didn't stop, instead they wander in her head and create new thoughts and made a massive headache that felt like stones hitting against her temples. Miku flinched, her head lowered, and she just wanted to go somewhere peaceful. Somewhere that could make her forget. Someone. . . Wait, was she even that lonely? Her heart seemed to ache and it left a bitter sensation, the aquamarine eyes dropped and fixated at the ground, a grey patch of pavement. The usual pair of tennis shoes needed to be washed soon, she tried to change her thoughts, something that doesn't concern of the dim-witted blonde.

The city neither help her, but piled the amount of pain in her head. Neither was it quiet or peaceful, as she would have wanted, but rowdy by the honks and screeches, chatters and shouts – there was a fight happening somewhere, perhaps a tumult between two gangs of foolish high school boys – the number of citizens or foreigners seemingly increased as time passed on. Flinching, and feeling very uneasy, she fled from the boisterous streets, walked against the pavement where fewer people walked to. For once, the tealette wished for a pair of headphones, to have music in her ears just so she wouldn't listen to people's nonsense. She hated the few that talked a lot, excluding her friends. Or even, those people that talked to her, even if they may be correct.

Without her noticing, she reached a part of the street, deserted and eerily silent. Like what you can see in movies where the world had died down, and she was the only survivor of wars. There were cars, alright, like Ford and Mustang but they were the oldest versions and either rusty or broken or their tires had been plucked out from the vehicles parked against the asphalt. And the shops that littered about had nobody, the vendors or hawkers was nowhere in sight. For a slight moment, the eighteen-year old trembled and gulped, dragging her feet backwards – slowly and nervously and she just wanted to return to her campus – till she bumped onto someone, he must have broad shoulders, with a thud. In an instant, she shrieked, thinking it was a thug and hurled into a position which frankly looked like a ball, as a protection. A few seconds passed as she waited for her death, but only then, she could heard the familiar but irritating laughter.

"Len?" Wait, why did she sounded so relieved? – How about a change in the tone? – she cleared her throat, "Len?!"

He chuckled deeply, his finger smoothed the white shirt he wore, but it didn't help to his appearance at all. Miku could see the fatigue in his red-rimmed eyes, and his breaths stench with alcohol. He looked different than the neat, rich-looking Len. "Yeah, its me."

". . . You're following me?"

"Perhaps."

"Stalker!" She was either considering of an apology. But by the fact that he was following her, she changed her mind and proceed to ignore the blonde. "I'm leaving!"

"But we've just met. . ."

"Get off me!"

"You still got the guts to tell me off," he sounded sad, and an obvious hint of anger in his slightly raised voice, but Miku knew better that it was just a pretend, that he was trying to guilt-trip the tealette, "Even after you gave me this." He pointed towards the, now purplish-blue, injury which had caused her colour to drain from her face and she bit her lower lip, mortified.

Both knew it was the girl's fault, but one was in denial and the other was, indeed, taunting. And both knew the blonde male wasn't exactly trying to flirt, but he was still in spite anger. So, both didn't make any attempt to speak or making eye contact, but stood firmly on the ground.

"I'm leaving." He didn't stop her. He just watched the empty streets, the grey skies signalling the rain would come too. The blonde sighed, shaking his head and walked towards the opposite direction.

"Sassy girl."

* * *

><p>Evening would settle down for sure, and the sun which once stood above, slowly began to descend to the horizon. And so did the time arrived, when the actual people of the streets started to come out and prepared for their black market and drugs dealing, and the advertisement lights and lamp posts flickered to life, one by one. The skies were orange, even with the mixture of blue and grey and the thick, fat clouds lowered, so did the droplets that became a patter and soon a gush of rain washed the empty streets. The blonde watched the little droplets from hitting against the large panes, like a child, he pretended a race between two droplets. Gumo could only watched him – he puffed out smoke coming from the Marlboro and threw the ashes from the end bits and placed it between his lips again – making no attempt to comfort the young blonde. So, he only did what he could, grabbing a half-full bottle and placed right in front of the bottle, on top of the small dining table.<p>

"You should calm your ass down, and go home." It was an order. At the very least, Gumo was trying to act as a good kind of brother here. Keyword was the word _trying_.

But Len did not budge, nor did he even pay attention to the wine in front of him. He only noticed _1984 _printed on the wrapper, but make no attempt to grab and drink. So, Gumo brought it to himself again, trashed his cigarette and chugged down the drink. "Fine by me if you're stuck here for a day or a week, but you should consider your sister."

"Just let me stay here for another day."

"Hm." The greenette took out another of the cancer stick, lit it with a lighter and smoked. He made no effort to talk anymore, and left the cranky and filthy apartment to the usual bar which would open by an hour soon.

The blonde continued to sit on the chair, tipping it slightly before settling it down and repeat the motion. He watched the rain, the weather which seemed to cope with his dull mood today. His fingers, gently and swiftly, touched the wound , his fingers grazed upon and he didn't feel the slightest pain anymore. It seemed to dissipate, and he smiled in return, relieved.

But just as his moods started to lift up, and the rain was slowing down from its previous heavy downpour, his phone located in the deepest section of his pockets, which for nearly a day it was forgotten, rang and vibrated vigorously. Huffing, and his body slouched back, because Hell, he was lethargic to even do anything, bother the television. He answered the phone, voice left hanging and sounded very rude. But a voice he wanted to avoid came – and his body straightened and blue eyes cracked wider as the phone nearly slipped from his supposed tight grasp – a scowl sketched upon his chapped lips.

"_Hello."_

Len gritted his teeth, frustrated by the surprising call. It was not a pleasant time to have a small chitchat but who was he to complain.

Yeah, he was just a worker.

"Boss."

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>

**Mozu : Here you go, another chapter! Gosh, I didn't even know what I'm doing with this chapter. So much explaining and less interaction. I know. But I have to keep it balance between those two, y'know. Perhaps I'll do it even better next time. I'm sorry!**

**And yeah, sorry for the lousy grammar. I got a fight with someone and I'm not pleased at all. I'm not in the mood to type but I thought you guys might be waiting so I said to myself "Poor them. I have to do this for them." And type my ass out. Huehuehue.**

**And I keep mentioning "This man". Is it annoying? Hahaha. I'm sure you'll find it out soon but I'm not always going to reveal him. More characters will appeal too! And again, if you noticed. . . The range of this chapter could be less than 5 minutes. Trust me. There's a lot of cut scenes and descriptions about the surroundings instead of action and real talking. So please, forgive me with this super short chapter! I'll try making it up to 7k by tomorrow.**

**Honestly, if you noticed, I keep using foreign products like Marlboro or Calvin Klein. . . I'm not supporting Japanese product, aren't I? Please don't get offended! I'll think of something too. It's just that, I imagine this in an American-movie style not anime. So yeah. I hope you kinda figure it out that way too.**

**Gosh, gimme some anime to watch! I haven't found a good anime recently. It's because I'm too picky with the storyline and art. So please can you all give me suggestions?**

**And please, type some reviews! Reviews are fuel to the sensei writing this! Huehuehue. I sound old. *touches imaginary beard***

**-Mozu The Mochi (2014)**


	4. Chapter Three

**Credits :**

**YourSecretAdmire (nice name huehue)**

**Hagane I'mAlwaysaGhoul Lui**

**Rainy Days**

**Awesome D.T**

**PopCandyStar**

* * *

><p><strong>AKA, Liar Syndrome<strong>

**.**

**.**

**.**

**PART I**

**SEDUCTION**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

><p>The large condo was unforgivingly silent, despite the heavy downpour that have lasted for hours and the loud booming echoes coming from the thunder, plus the heavy noise – there was music and cars and screams coming from upstairs' birthday party – from literally everywhere. The rooms were too dark, the lights went unlit because they weren't used at the current moment. The only occupant was Kagamine Rin, who stayed at home, and busied herself with numerous sketches and paintings. She had finished three so far, one was a portrait of a beautiful lady with dark curls and round eyes and the two others were Monet-like paintings, sceneries of ocean and forests filling the blank space on the canvas. The blonde neither realized of the time, even as midnight approached and the moon hung like a locket, casting her silhouette a shadow on the walls. She tended her concerns by absorbing herself with the addiction of painting. Her work was her drug, a hobby that chained her life somehow, but she never felt bad about it. It brought her fortunes. Her portraits, realistic and unique, with shadows sketched by lead or blotched by pastels, were enough to support a month's lifestyle. For the two siblings to have food and education, at the very least.<p>

Though, she still wished for Len to work. A proper job, she dare say. Or to re-attend university since he had dropped his course last year. But alas, she hated the man that chained Len to his contract, binding him with a difficult but nonsensical task.

It was, as if, a curse.

Her teeth clenched, and so does her fists and she slammed them to the innocent, white canvas and screamed in frustration. So they had a fight, but she was worried of her little brother – I mean, who wouldn't? He had been gone for a week now. Rin knew she might be getting ill. Her meals weren't taken properly, only when her assistant – good-mannered Teto with her typical corkscrew-like pigtails – brought her lunch, sometimes sandwiches or a sushi pack or good ol'Ramen – ah, don't forget the additional of oranges or orange-flavoured delish, was her only source of feed in a day. Plus, the dark circles marked beneath two pools of azure blue had proven that she lacked sleep either. And she did have to admit, she only took afternoon naps or sometimes a short sleep after her painting done. A coffee would resulted well, but somehow her brain was screaming for a stop.

Maybe her hobby, her so-called drug was not too good after all. There were benefits and consequences. Dangerous consequences. Or perhaps, she might be under depression after all, who knows?

Thus, her four hours work was halfway done but she stopped to give her eyes rest from the vibrant colours. Anyway, she couldn't care less of the red or green blotches stained her apparent white nightgown – every gowns she wore previously had similar blotches on fabrics – and wiped her dirty hands on the thin cotton. She made her way to the kitchen and washed her hands clean.

It was too silent. Eerily silent. The blonde felt slightly uncomfortable, and longed for the figure of a familiar tall blonde who would watch football on TV, or played the piano as if on rage, or whined because the dinner was missing or he was too lazy to cook. She missed Len dearly, of course, because they are siblings and the fact that she wanted to apologize. Anyway, it was her fault that she sold her Cadillac but still. . . they were short on money. There were bills and groceries and her gallery's rent to pay attention. The train of thoughts seemed to inflict pain to her head and she suddenly became tipsy. Hastily, she grabbed some headache pills and a glass of water, her hands shaking. The cold seemed unbearable for tonight.

"Gosh, I'm not that old already, am I?," she complained dearly and headed her way to the settee, on which she plopped her tired body to the fluffy couch and begged her eyes close. "When will you come home, Len?" The blonde sniffed, her voice inaudibly low and hinted with sorrow. The cascades of short, cropped hair became dishevelled as she kept turning and tossing her body around the supposed small space. Still, she slept soundly, waves of lassitude overpowered the older blonde.

* * *

><p>Out of the blue, Len sneezed, a weird sensation suddenly crept towards his body. Not that he expected a ghost to appear but suddenly he felt chilled. The blonde shuddered, hands travelled to the shoulders and crept to his sulking spot. It was midnight, around one, and he was alone in Gumo's apartment. The said house owner had left several hours ago – actually it was too long ago that Len longed for someone to talk for the first time within a week – for his gambling or whatever his work supposed to be. He glimpsed outside the window, the street previously washed by rain was thronged by drunkards and sexy-clothed women.<p>

The blonde, at last, stood up from his seat and grabbed a leather jacket – Gumo's ones perhaps – and changed his sporty tracks to a much representable trousers and left the cranky, shit-smell apartment. He somehow preferred a shitty café with actual people than a shitty home with only cans of beers and a packet of cancer sticks to spare. Yeah, he need company, a friend to talk – just at least one familiar face! – he was goddamn desperate. Or perhaps, he could meet the, y'know who, girl. Fortunately, his Lamborghini was still parked safely in the street, and cautiously, he slipped inside and speed his way on the asphalt. A high-strung sensation bubbled in his chest, the girl's fault was long forgotten and placed in the farthest trashcan in his memory. And Len realized, he was at fault too. They both were. Hm, that sounds fair at least. An image of a certain tealette kept flashing in his eyes, and yeah, perhaps he was too desperate.

Before his ride was supposedly to land in front of the café, he got himself a bottle of Château Margaux from the nearest wine shop – thinking of the wine as a symbol of peace between them, he had decided – and finally reached the wanted destination. His fingers, albeit shakily, mended the messy hair of bright golden and went through the door. Inside the café, the air was sweltering and cramped, but the customers didn't care at all, even when the rusty bells rang a welcome. The lovebirds were still staying, and Len, too, began to wonder how they could tolerate each other for every single moment. For each pair his cerulean blue orbs landed upon, his lips twitched into a frown and he flinched in disgust towards the deep kisses – was it tongue that he saw? – and light touches.

"Welcome to Miyagi Café."

It was a different voice. A girl's voice, indeed, but not Miku's. He knew by the tone – Miku sounded rough, because she was always annoyed, even if it was a little bit high-pitched, and the new girl held a rather cheerful voice. Somehow, that fact disappoint Len and he felt his frown remained as he trudged towards the counter. It was, in fact, a different girl. She looked slightly younger and shorter, her long cascades a darker pink shade and her eyes similar of similar hues. Len was absolutely disappointed. She realized his stares, two pools of icy blue pierced into her own, and she backed away.

The girl looked around seventeen, and she held an uncomfortable look. "M. . . Mister?"

"Oh?" Len broke the stares and shook his head. Seriously, he should stop looking like a rapist for once. "Uhm. . ."

"Anything you would like to order?"

"Miku. . ."

"Hm?"

Len shook his head in frantic, wincing towards his word once he realized. "Um, no. . . – I mean, is there Suzune Miku around?"

The girl laughed towards the blonde's antics, founding it funny how he stuttered and his edgy fidgets broke his attempt to act calm and smooth. She bit her lip, stifling her laughter because seriously, she sounded almost rude and simply replied, "Miku is having flu today, so she won't be working till tomorrow's night."

"I see. . ." Disappointment tinged in his voice, resulting for a clench of both fists and frustration took over.

The maroon-haired teen noticed a change of demeanour. Therefore, she pressed her chest to the counter, her body lowered and Len assumed she was trying to whisper – a new kind of gossip probably. And he shifted slightly when he noticed the mischief twinkling in her rare-coloured eyes.

"I heard about you and _her_. Seriously, there were so many gossips after she kind of take a hit on your face," a giggle rose from her cherry pink glossed lips, "A lover's spat?"

When the words hit him, Len snorted and immediately chuckled. He founded the word _lover's _funny, somehow. "I wish it would be that way."

"Friends?" Her brows furrowed, as she eyed him suspiciously.

"I wish that, too." His eyes narrowed, and his shoulders tugged upwards to indicate that he really didn't know of their relationship actually. Now that he really thought about it, they were still in the stranger zone.

"I see," the teen continued to giggle, enjoying their somehow jocular conversation at the moment, and she placed her cheeks on both palms, "I'm quite new here, but I do heard of her. Boss said she came from Sunshine Orphanage, and nobody tend to stay close to her. That's why she's. . . y'know?"

"Sassy," his hand clasped his mouth, and his chest rose as he laughed heartily, "I know that."

Her brow twitched and the teenage girl smiled in agreement. "Well, what are you going to do with her?" Len showed her the wine and she gaped in response, nodding in understanding.

"Good luck." The teenage girl winked and she left the cash register, sashaying her way to clean a row of abandoned tables.

Len left the said shop, huffing when he realized he was a bit tired. The air was chilly, the crown of blonde hair was blown by a quite harsh breeze, and fortunately he had his jacket on. Those long and slender fingers weaved their way to the black leather and clutched the garment, shivering. He walked back to the car, the bottle was placed beside and he drove to the other location. The blonde male reminisced the previous conversation, and he chuckled deeply; "At least I'm not the only one who thinks that way."

* * *

><p>"I'm going to leave now," a particular pink-haired spoke, her voice stern and sharp and threatening, not to mention that she might kill with only her voice, "You better stay there or I'd tie you up." It was a warning, but of course, that was how she showed her caring side. Just a moment ago, she had cooked something edible for the sick patient – a small portion of porridge and pills pushed to the ill girl – and tucked her in the quilt by now. And Luka really did looked like a caretaker, her long pink waves curled into a bun up-do but some of the strands went loose. An apron adorned her slim figure, and beneath was her Forever 21's long-sleeved V-necks. The said patient curled in between sheets, her temperature seemed to rise again and she sniffled groggily. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat painful, so instead she gave the older friend a nod and tried to sleep.<p>

Luka stroked the ocean-coloured hair, brushing over the long mass whilst her face held a sympathetic look. "Alright, good girl." She stood up, her palms brushed over the apron and she fiddled with the ribbons.

"Oh, if you need anything, just take it from that counter," Luka yelled as she stood in front of the exit, whilst her arms flinging around to slip into the damn coat – why it have to be so difficult, she don't know, and the pink-haired cursed lightly inaudibly – and she exited the door. She continued cursing her boyfriend for the endless but needy calls, finally shutting the door and properly slid her handbag between her arm and body. Her heels made echoes as she trudged across the hallway, making her way to the elavator. She spotted a silhouette, a faint figure from afar who previously exited the said lever. Her eyebrows arched, and she narrowed her own bright blue pools – a mass of golden waves and, whoa, was apparently quite tall – out of curiosity. In a matter of seconds, he got closer and passed through Luka, his cool demeanour intimidated the pink-haired senior. When he was right behind her, she stopped her steps and turned. There was a glass bottle, a fine wine, indeed. And she pursed her lips in suspicion.

_Could he be? _She shook her head. _If that person is Kagamine Len, then Miku would be fine for sure. . ._

– _Would she?_

* * *

><p>The cold weather was unbearable and rather unforgiving. Even Miku, who was wrapped in between piles of thick duvets, could still feel the cold hitting against the alabaster white skin. It felt like swords stabbing into her skin, and the tealette felt that using the sheets were futile. Tea would done a good job, with lemon and a very hot temperature. And heat packs. God. Yes, the heavenly heat packs resulting on her stomach and cheeks and feet providing her suffice warmth would be good. She should get that for Christmas. Or birthday. Whatever. It was her own budget to deal with anyway. Or better yet, she could have install a heat system in her home for calefaction, especially during winter because that was the time when snow could kill and destroyed your happy childhood.<p>

Anyway, she just need a hug in this current moment. Like how people often said, body heat was the best in desperate moments. Not that she was really desperate, but she was sick. That, itself, was a good reason.

The lights on the ceiling flickered, and she flinched at the sight. The tealette picked herself up to a sitting position, grabbing a wistful of tissues and threw them back to the trashcan after they were used. She was bored too, how unfortunate. Miku tried to read, but her eyes refused to cooperate with her, thus the words came out in doubles or triples. She threw the book – a good-written childhood's story of the piper in Hamelin – and groaned, not due to her illness, but of bored.

And just when she thought an angel would come, multiple of knocks came intact with her door. For a split moment, she felt happy. The pair of aquamarine eyes shot up and brightened before they narrowed and she pouted.

"Luka, is that you? Your phone is not here. I'm sure you took it before you leave. And gosh, mind making me tea. I feel sucks now, like literally sucks. And cookies. I just don't know why I felt like eating cookies. But one thing I know, my oven is an evil murderer of innocent young cookies. . . – Luka, is that really you?!"

Although faintly, Miku heard a laughter from the other side of the door, and it definitely did not belong to a female. The tone was low, and slicked in velvet – and seriously, she want some cookies! So, without any moment of hesitation, she twisted the door knob and pulled the old wood open –

And fuck! – Was she talking about cookies and evil oven in front of the almighty arrogant God named Len? Well shit, that was embarrassing, to be honest. The tealette froze for a split second, her lips and gaped widely. Somehow, the thick pile was released and joined the floor. Adrenaline shoot through her body, and just so suddenly, she felt her cheeks heating up and sure they might be in bright shades of scarlet. Talk about body heat, geez. Miku tried to look at herself – yeah, yeah, Len might still be a goddamn stranger but who was she to dress like a poor beggar in front of a man! – with her unkempt hairdo – her ponytail was a disaster! – and tousled pyjamas embellished her body.

Fortunately, Len was not a person who minded the appearances though he did tended to tease a lot. And so he did. Upon the sight landed on his vision, his eyes immediately closed and he clasped his mouth with one of his palms and guffawed. There were tears springing out from the corner of his eyes, and he wiped them in haste. Meanwhile, the said patient gave him a dirty look, mostly filled with disgust, and she made an attempt to close the entrance.

"Wait – I'm sorry. . .", he paused and held her dear wrist, "I didn't mean to laugh."

"Yeah, you didn't mean to mock either." Her brows twitched and she closed the door halfway; but Len was agile and swift, he predicted the movement and stuck his foot in between. Impressed by his own trick, he grinned toothily.

"Well? How will you close the door?"

"Do you always act like a jerk in front of sick people?"

"Do you always act rude when you're sick?" The blonde shot back, proudly, and his head held high like he was a motherfucking debate champion just because he shot back another sarcasm. Yeah – and the Sarcasm Debate Reply goes to. . . Kagamine fucking Len!

Miku rolled her eyes instead, detecting the effort a waste, and gave up. "Fine. . . you may come in."

Len smoothed his tousled hair. "Thanks, Miku."

"Don't say my name."

"Then, how about _Miss_?"

"Just shut up."

He shove a glass bottle in front of her face, a flash of Château Margaux appeared straight to her eyes, and she brightened at once. But the flu was being a bitch, and it attacked her out of the blue, and she coughed tremendously.

The eighteen-year old shuffled her way to the cranky bed, and she sniffed, a little sad but she seemed thankful. Len should celebrate for that look. It was an improvement, at least. "Gosh, I'm sick and you bought me a freaking Château Margaux? Are you evil?"

"Not as evil as that oven, I guess."

Miku snorted, her eyes rolled at that sarcasm, but laughed nevertheless. It was a bubbly sound, cheerful and suited her. The moment lasted for a while and she went back to her moody look again and sniffed, the amount of mucus in her nostrils was seriously another bitch of the day. And for a split second, the blonde thought he heard her whined for tea.

A smile approached his lips, and he moved from his standing location and made his way towards the small kitchen. It was indeed small, but at least, not at all bad. In fact, he was quite impressed because the kitchen utensils – there were frying pans and woks and spoons and ladle and God knows what asides – were placed neatly against the hanging rack. He spotted a complete set of equipment to make tea, and settled to it at once. He turned around, making sure the said patient was alright, and smiled when he saw her lying on the settee, her face bored and dull. He placed the water-filled kettle on the stove and set the fire on. Like a sort of good mother he was trying to become, he prepared the tea bag and some sugar cubes inside the teapot and waited for the water to fully heat. Then, the blonde shuffled back to the multi-function room.

"There's nothing much in this house, eh?" Len received a glare from that question and he response with a guilty simper. "Sorry."

She stopped whisking her fingers from the quilt, and hung her head low. Faintly, he could heard; "Yeah."

"And sorry for that other day. . ."

The girl made herself to look at him. Her eyes, the brightest shade of blue and green gleamed throughout the slightly dim-lit room, softened. Again, a rush of guilt swept towards her, and the tealette caught herself biting her lower lip. She reeled away, avoiding the intense gaze coming from the other pair of blue. "For – for what. . . do you apologize for?" She choked back the question, and dove her head to the sheets.

"Hm. . . I don't know," was his only reply, and both of them went confused. But they laughed, for a while, and silence crept out once their laughter died down.

"Well, I'm sorry too." After the words came out, she buried her face towards her thighs, and Len could sense the brazen-faced feeling she was facing.

He chuckled. "Hey you, there's no need for that."

"Bloody hell, shut up for one minute." Even from the corner, Len saw her white, cherub cheeks turned scarlet.

He could only laugh, and he got up and finished his tea-making.

"Look here, I made tea."

"Tea?", her head shot up, and the sulk was already forgotten by the mention of tea. For the first time of his life, Len finally get to see her face truly brightened up. To be honest, she actually looked mesmerizing. Even with her tresses tousled and poking her cheeks, but her eyes seemed to have stars – God, they were shining. If that indicate she was happy, the Len could really confirmed that she was tremendously happy.

She crawled towards the blonde, a little stagger, but eager nonetheless. The twenty-year old blonde had prepared two mugs – since he can't find any cups anywhere and he was afraid to intrude any further of her stuffs – and gave one to Miku. They both settled down on the settee, and they watched Lord Of The Rings and Friends and another couples of DVDs they could find. It was becoming a little warm, snuggling beside the blonde. And she felt a little glad to have him around, for the first time. _Just this once, though_. It was quiet, too, but the two didn't mind not having a conversation at all.

Or perhaps they did.

Still, they don't know how to actually start one. Would a question be better? Len hoped he won't sound like a stalker for once, and Miku didn't want to look akin to a slut. Besides, their relationship wasn't even close to friends. Because, ironically, they just watched a show called _Friends_.

"So. . . did you go to college?" Miku had another pour of tea and her hands hugged the mug, enjoying the warmth of said boiled drink.

Len almost flinched towards the question, but he swallowed and response with; "Not anymore."

"Why?"

"I – I was offered a job. . ."

"What kind of job?" So, she was curious. But Len wasn't one to give direct responses easily. He smirked at that question – it was typical amongst the known – and he always had to answer smoothly.

His lips twitched to a smile. "Best you don't know about it, dear."

"Don't call me dear," and then added, "Jerk."

He laughed sarcastically, a _ho-ho-ho _kind of sarcastic laughter and his brows twitched when his mean side was switched on once more. "But you can call me a jerk? Where's your equality, girl?"

"Shut up. . ."

"That'll be unfair."

"Do I give a damn?"

"_Dear _is better, don't you think so?" He went back to the pet names, smirking in sheer mischief.

"No!" She made an attempt to hide between the sheets, her legs almost touched the bruised jaw but he managed to retaliate and grabbed both of her wrists, pinning her head down to the couch.

Their faces almost collided, and for a moment, Miku could feel his breathe against her cheeks. She felt her cheeks coloured, and due to the awkward position, she resulted a scream and a trash of her legs as a signal of protest. Truthfully, the blonde man was shocked as well, but he kept his composure and continued the act –

His cellphone suddenly buzzed and the light lit up the dark space, disrupting their supposed awkward moment. Groaning, he hauled himself from the embarrassing position, and Miku retaliated by covering her face with cushions and she stayed, unmoved. The blonde heaved a sigh, his mood ticked from joy to frustration but he kept that to himself either. The time showed that it was three o'clock, and he thought it would be best to put the girl to sleep. Not that he was trying to act as a babysitter, he only felt responsible. Blue eyes met the lit screen, and just as he had guessed, the caller was his boss.

He felt a turmoil of anger, and all he wanted was to smash his phone into pieces. But he left the phone ringing, and reverted his attention elsewhere. And when the ring subdued, it started again, much to his annoyance. Alas, he gave up and picked up in defeat.

"What do you want?!"

There was a chuckle in the other side of the line. But it was nowhere near nice. It was deep and slightly hoarse, and even by the tone Len knew he was exacty the definition of evil.

The man, whoever he is, clicked his tongue as a signal. "Len, Len. . . You shouldn't talk to your boss like that. We made a deal, remember?"

Len bit the insides of his cheeks, flinching as each words said were true. He closed his eyes shut, his breathe heavy, and he shut the dial between them. It was too painful; even hearing the man's voice was painful. And suddenly, a blearing ache attacked his head.

"Are you okay. . .?"

His eyes widened and he looked towards the girl who had been peeping through the thick quilts. She had covered half of her face with those, and only her eyes were visible. It was, as if, she was a five-year old kid, or better yet, a frightened cat; and Len founded the sight whimsical. He chuckled and shook his head.

"I thought you went to sleep already."

"I can't if you had that look on your face."

The blonde looked startled for a split second, but he chuckled once more. "Sorry. . . you better sleep now."

"You're leaving?"

"I suppose. . ."

"I see."

There was disappointment on her tired face, but it broke off when she started to cough. The blonde pushed her to the bed – the real bed, to be exact – and tucked her in. She do really acted like a child, especially when she started to curl her body and her breathes became regular. Miku was asleep in a prompt.

"Hah. . . That was fast," the man laughed. Therefore, he stood up and made an attempt to leave since he have no purpose to be here any longer. He moved towards the door, and noticed the wine, left untouched, sitting on the counter. Right, the glass bottle had been forgotten in the first place. He shuffled back to the kitchen, searched for a paper and a pen, and quickly scribbled down a note. Satisfied, the blonde grinned and fled from the apartment. "See you tomorrow, Miss Sassy."

* * *

><p>Sunlight rays and the tweeting birds woke the girl with a jump, and she felt the warmth pooled in the stomach. It felt good. The cold seemed to disappear, and the rainy night was replaced with a clear sunshine as a start of the day. Miku stretched her arms, her mood felt better and so does her head. No more headaches or blocked nose, and she felt glad for the day. The tealette fixed her hair, a messy tangle of ocean-coloured waves, the sunlight lit towards her bright skin.<p>

Slowly, and languidly, because she was only recently better, staggered towards the kitchen and made a groaning sound of complain. The wine, Château Margaux, still existed – and the cork was still intact with the hole – on top of the island counter. She mused, finding herself smiling, before she felt mortified of her own expressions and scowled back. The tealette crept towards the fridge; perhaps a good breakfast would steer clear the concerns from her friends. It's not like she was a masochist after all. She just hated caring, that's all. But before her hand could pull the fridge open, her eyes caught sight of a little piece of paper lying beside the proud glass bottle.

_That little minx. . . Using my property like it was his to begin with! _Miku gritted her teeth, suddenly felt annoyed and grabbed the mini note harshly. Once she read the neatly-written words – she felt herself getting jealous just by the perfect letters written on the once blank space – the girl felt her frustration rose and she threw the paper away, conflicted.

_Right, he was annoying in the first place! _The eighteen-year old girl screamed and dashed to wash herself and prepare for her class.

The paper was left, abandoned on the floor, but the words were clearly seen, saying;

_Dear sassy girl,_

_Sorry I can't accompany you even in your sleep, because I, as your arrogant Prince Charming may need to return to his own kingdom to settle his own business. Enjoy my wine on your own – ah – but I forgot about the cookies. Perhaps your evil, bewitched oven could fix that for you. Fear not, if the oven might attack your innocent, infant cookies than I believe you can fight with your sword – I mean, frying pan._

_You should follow Disney's Rapunzel. She made frying pan as a useful weapon instead of punching people around. Sometimes, you have to act like a lady too, right Princess?_

_And I hope you like the elixir I made yesterday – yes, the tea. Heh heh._

_From, the arrogant prince named Len._

_I actually want to write Legolas, but never you mind._

Maybe they shouldn't had watched Lord Of The Rings last night. . . Miku thought about her words inwardly, and her blush worsened.

_It's not like I'm inviting him here again!_

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><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>

**Mozu : Hello, and Merry Christmas! I might be posting a onesyot for the day. Huehue. Anyway this is far too random. I know. But at least, Luka get to see Len – which is nice! It's something~! *spins around***

**Anyone had watched The Hobbit? Yes, I love elves. They have beautiful hair. *touches own hair* *cries* And the moose isn't a moose. It's an elk. *mindblown***

**Hmm. . . Bad news for me. I didn't get a good result for my national exam, but it wasn't that bad either. Ugh. . .**

**I'm sorry it's so short! I'll keep it to 6k maybe. MAYBE. I'm trying.**

**-Mozu The Mochi (2014)**


	5. Chapter Four

**Credits :**

**Awesome D.T**

**namedafteracar**

**Anonymous**

**khdayskh1314**

**ImaginaryFlower**

**Airlit City**

**Hagane I'mAlwaysaGhoul Lui**

**A/N : Thank you for those who corrected my grammar mistakes! I was very happy when I read those reviews.**

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><p><strong>AKA, Liar Syndrome<strong>

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**PART I**

**SEDUCTION**

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**CHAPTER FOUR**

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><p>Mikuo found himself gawking towards the numerous number of hooded crows littering the streets. Their feathers were found anywhere, and they grouped amongst each other, pecking the ground and cawing loudly. How rare. In the depths of his mind, he remembered hearing Father's words regarding of a legend about seven or more hooded crows appeared to the earth's ground just to gloat of a human tragedy. He do know for sure that the weather was a tragedy, apparently, along these dreaded days. The curtains of rain was trailing around the streets and delivered a sense of longing to most people, especially himself, where he longed for someone. . . Or at least, just a friend will do.<p>

But he could only watched others in panic, running frantically around the streets, avoiding the busy traffic from further accidents and shed their heads with umbrellas or papers. Whereas he, alone and lonely, was spending his young life inside a magazine stall. Boredom was consuming him, and the absent of conversation made him wonder the sound of his voice. Was it timbre? Husky? Would he talk brusquely or politely? He only knew how to nod or shook his head, lift his hand and wave, and that was all. So, while waiting for another day to end, he fanned himself with a famous-branded magazine and busied reading words from a newspaper instead. Magazines was a bore; with continuous pictures of beloved artists who you have not meet in reality. Surprisingly, the high school teenagers were desperate enough to even squeeze their wallet for a 2000 yen Epop or Seventeen. Well, at least money was running and there were visitors.

The days where he had laughed and enjoyed youth had been over, even though he couldn't exactly remember when. The days where he would make someone proud was long gone, and they were replaced with remorse and grief, and as if he was a master of mourning, plain over the woman he quite looked up to. Looking at the crumbling photo, he mourned for the young lady on the printed paper with sad, shamrock green pools. Was it sixteen years? Seventeen years? He forgot. There had been a season when he had the mood to mark his calendar, or ripping off the past days and stashed them in the depths of his wardrobe where they would collect dust mites and stayed there for like, centuries. And those days happened to disappear so suddenly, when he woke up and the calendar was brushed off, forsaken.

The drizzle continued to pour, and he started to despise the cold that bit through the thin piece of garment. At that exact moment, he longed for alcohol. The burning taste to his tongue and throat, and the smouldering warmth pooling inside the stomach was his heavenly summer, friend and murderer. It blessed him with joy, gifted him with ignorance – and when his senses felt numb and the swirling images – he felt nothing but contentment – but the senses returned along with a doubled pain and a throbbing headache, for sure. The wondering man huffed and lowered his head, disgusted towards himself, and so he cursed the kismet bellowed upon him.

Hatsune Mikuo was a sad, wondering man. He hated himself for living, but he continued to live with a string of a promise that bound him from falling into the cliff of despair. It was a poor life he led; but even though he only earned a few and his house was apparently stashed with cup noodles, Pizzahut boxes and bottles of Junmai Daiginjo _sake_, it was enough for him. The only thing he wished for was a companion, but he was afraid to step forward and left the bitter memories of him and the woman who took care of him during the younger days.

"Hey, mister?"

The voice surprised him, breaking the barrier of thoughts and let him returned to the reality world once again. Without any words spoken – not that it was necessary – his head whipped and was met with a student buying a Seventeen magazine. She scurried off later on, happily mumbling something about Austin Mahone's poster and a Blank Space song was running through her MP3, he saw her sneakily glanced a smile towards him. Mikuo smiled back, his fingertips brushing over the fern green mosses of hair, and he felt pleased to wonder that kind, friendly people still existed.

Then, he continued to ponder whilst he fanned himself with the magazine, and the dull days repeated once more.

Perhaps, his daily routine was too constant, too repetitive that he didn't expect he would meet himself in front of MIYAGI café.

And the chains of his cursed fate started to break slowly.

* * *

><p>". . . Are you sure?"<p>

"Yes." She gritted her teeth, and attempted her best to disregard a grinning blonde from the other side of the counter. Instead, the teal-haired waitress busied herself with the machine, pretending to admire the functions of said normal coffee machine and made no effort to listen to his wails anymore. Len was too selfish, annoying, and childish even. Sure, it was too bad he had been standing there since the early shift but it was his very own fault. And Miku smiled triumphantly at the torturous thought of him having a leg cramp. . . – he could walk with a broken leg without her bother at all! Hah.

Meanwhile, the man with tow-coloured hair scowled in dissatisfaction. To get the girl's attention was difficult enough, let alone to bring her to a date. Miku was too inconsiderate, rude and cold-hearted. What an ice queen.

"You sure are mean, sassy girl."

"Says the selfish boy." Finally, she spoke. Len took it as an achievement and he grinned.

"First, I'm twenty and a full-grown man, thank you," he paused with a smirk, "And second, I'm kind enough to actually bring you out to eat and change that skinny figure of yours."

"Excuse me?!" Suzune Miku was offended. Being called skinny by friends sounded like a friendly joke to her, but being called skinny by a definitely stalking stranger was an insult. She gasped and threw a fist at his shoulder. Fortunately, it hit but the blow wasn't as strong as the other day.

The blonde laughed cheekily, and he bolted away to avoid another blow. This time, they made quite a ruckus inside the café and a few customers could only watched their antics and assumed their actions as a common, or daily, lover's spat.

But it was truly a shocking sight for a certain man who had just entered a second ago.

It was not normal to see a waitress treating her customer like that. It was not normal to see a waitress punching a customer. It was not normal to see such tumult inside a café whilst the other customers were having their dates in such a normal manner, such that their reactions were nothing for the sight. At all.

For a moment, he hesitated to step further but a tiny voice called out and came in prancing was a small stature of another waitress, with a cerise tinge of tresses and bubbly carmine eyes looking straight into his soul. She looked around fifteen or sixteen.

"Hello mister, what can I get you?"

Why would she speak that in front of the entrance door? Then, he noticed the few cardboard boxes she was carrying – strong girl – and it seemed like he was blocking her way. Shyly, he sashayed to the side and lowered his sight, mortified.

"Would you like some coffee?" the girl spoke again, her voice was cheerful and music to everyone's ears.

He gulped, "Yeah. . ." So, his voice was hoarse and small, and he was taken aback by the very sound coming from his throat. Mikuo might have been taking the other by surprise as well, judging from the gape of her eyes and a baffled expression.

"Alright!", she cheered and lifted her arms, waving them to attract attention towards the counter. The tealette had stopped arguing with the blonde, and she stormed away to Mikuo's table. For a moment, he felt slightly intimidated by her posture, and her glare – and he could see the cold and isolated look matching his own – and a second passed, he felt familiarity.

"What do you want, Miki?"

"Coffee."

"Do it yourself, will you?" the female tealette sighed, shaking her head towards the lazy teenager standing in front of her.

"But I'm already busy with this boxes to arrange."

"And well, I'm busy as well," Miku gave a small smile, with obvious façade, "So how about, no?"

The short girl named Miki wasn't pleased with that answer. And thus, she threw the older one a shameful taunt; "Why? So that you can continue your loving moments with Len?!"

There was a startling silence that bound the two in surprise. Miki didn't really mean to say that, but it was already too late.

"Whoa – that sounds amazing actually!" Len was laughing in a distance, but the tealette who received the mock wasn't actually proud – and not even contentment showed on her face – but she wasn't exactly angry.

Was it tears that Mikuo saw? Her face was hidden beneath the long bangs, but he was able to glance from the silhouette, were rivulets of tears and her face was flushed from the sheer embarrassment.

"Um –" he was hesitating. No, he wasn't prepared for this. The only reason he came to this café was for a cup of coffee and leave immediately. No, he wasn't ready to confront and comfort a crying girl. There were questions starting in his head, and it was too difficult to paid no heed to any of those.

He was nervous, a tad afraid and concerned; but his body said otherwise and did the opposite. One moment he was staring at the ceiling lights, dim and a broken few, and the next thing he was met with a frightening darkness and a hard, cold brick that greeted his back. So did the girl – he noticed his left hand wrapping around her wrist – and a troubled expression coming from her.

For a moment, he thought she would be thankful enough but he was never to expect Miku to be the gentle, thankful person though. Instead, he was thanked with a fatal blow on his stomach and a rather rough scream.

Honestly, Suzune Miku was like any other girl. She was scared, upset, angry and frustrated but the way she handled her problems differed from the rest. There was no diaries, no gossips to fling around, no Kleenex beside her bed to express frustrated tears. Only thing she needed was her hard-trained fists and a simple blow was enough to even blow her steam off. But she wasn't done yet, and Mikuo knew there was a lot buried in the depths of her thoughts. When he turned to look at her, he actually saw a fleeting look of sorrow.

"I – I didn't mean anything. . .", perhaps he could explain himself, "I just thought you need to be away for a while because – because they're such a jerk, y'know. . ."

She shook her head, and Mikuo thought she was to deny the fact but instead a soft mutter mustered from her lips; "Thanks. . ."

"It's okay, I don't think I ever need that coffee anyway," he pretended to chuckle but the response wasn't a good one, so he stopped.

"I'm sorry. . . I just can't help it," she reeled away from the man, noticing his frightened expression and knew it came from her icy glare.

There was something about the fern green eyes that was always concealed with emotions. Mikuo knew those emerald pair was to let people created a barrier from the latter, but sometimes he saw glimpses of secrets dropping from the green pools. One by one, he saw sorrow, loneliness and somewhat it was almost as similar as his. But then, he noticed something else. Strength, determination and a spark of hope that made her differ from him. For a fleeting second, he saw a familiar wave of spark that bloomed in his chest, and the flash of a young woman appeared.

"Perhaps, I would like some Grande mocha instead," Mikuo tried to cheer her up.

"Pfft, this is not Starbucks," scoffed the girl.

"It's okay, let's go to Starbucks," he coaxed and his eyes narrowed and head cocked to the side, remembering something, "I've got some discount coupons actually."

The shorter tealette laughed, "Alright, strange man with discount coupons."

"It's Hatsune Mikuo actually."

She was surprised to hear his name. Miku bit her lower lip and stayed silent, and made no further conversation afterwards. They walked in silence, as across the street was a mall crowded with people even though it was night. There were kids, unsupervised by their parents, and really they should have returned home because kids these days need to do their homework properly; and also teenagers; young, fresh teenagers who foolishly thought smoking and taking drugs and joining gang fights were the epitome of coolness. And the weather's bitter, it was the after rain type where the air was stiff and chilly and the sky was dull with no dots of stars, and it was too dark for any rainbows. He seldom had witnessed a rainbow, often missed it or he either didn't care for such a childish scenery. Starbucks was comfortable though, with comfy chairs – much, _much _better than MIYAGI's – and a friendly waiter.

Afterwards, they had their Grande mocha, Frappucino for Miku, and hot pockets – such expensive prices and Mikuo swallowed hardly – seated at the most corner from other people's sights. From a close distance, Mikuo could see a similarity between his acquaintance and Miku. Both held a small face, hollow cheeks and a pointed chin. The young woman's eyes was blue instead, a turquoise gem kind of eyes whilst Miku's resembled a forest in the midsummer, like thick lushes of leaves. He was caught staring, and Miku had to slap him with a cold foam cup.

"You're weird," confessed the college teen, "But thanks for these, I mean I never step into Starbucks before." She was reminded of Len's weird but silly note but she shrugged the thought of the teen, still angry towards his mock previously.

"It's okay, I kind of need to leave now anyway."

"Oh?" It had only been a while, but being with Mikuo was. . . warm, to say the least. "You're in a hurry?"

"Sort of," he shrugged. To be honest, he was just concerned of his German Shepherd at home. Damn dog, why can't she feed herself?

Miku nodded in understanding, but the way she bit her lip – a common habit – she looked rather upset. "Okay then."

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically, "I hope we meet again." After six bites of the chicken-filled hot pocket, he made his way up and pushed the chair to its original position. He felt a conscience of guilt when the green eyes belonged to the teal-haired girl widened but filled with so much dread. "We can meet again, y'know."

"I know – I know. . . It, it was just a silly thought of me," she laughed, her voice flat however, "It's not like you're going to move somewhere to South America or something. . . You're not going to die. . ."

"I won't," he smiled.

"Alright, mister – Thank you," she was standing, and she shook his hand and the warmth of his hand seeped onto her own palms.

He, however, was admiring the coolness of her skin, matching the alabaster white and it really made her seemed like an ice queen. Cold-hearted and cold skin, stuffs like that.

"Oh, and my name's Suzune Miku anyway," she finally added.

"What Miku?"

"Suzune," a confused look was given but Mikuo wasn't paying any attention now.

_Suzune's –?_

The time suddenly felt so slow. He had his eyes widened and his feet seemed to glue themselves on the polished floor. He wanted to grab her wrist once more, but his throat felt heavy and he wasn't able to say anything.

When he was finally able to control himself – the girl was already gone. The Frappucino was gone. The hot pocket gone. All proof of her existence disappeared, and he thought he had been talking to air. But he shook his head in denial. Of course he was talking to a real human! And Ring's daughter as well. . . And again, he was in the state of lament where everything was too late.

"At least, she really do resembled you, Ring."

Finally, he went home, as well as returning to being the sad, wondering man once again.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

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><p><strong>Mozu : I haven't been updating since December! I'm sorry, people! Here's a short chapter! Besides, I wasn't in school today – not with my sunburnt face! I totally look like a lobster. . . cries**

**I have to say, Mikuo plays a major role here but he isn't going to be shipped with Miku. I'll see who I could ship him according to this plot. And this isn't RingxMikuo either. They are more or less close acquaintances, and that's all.**

**There'll be more Len and Miku scenes afterwards, and more to the real plot. This is, however, just an introduction to another major role, I have to apologize.**

**But still, please review what you think.**

**-Mozu The Mochi (2015)**


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